Nin, the Elephant!!

For the last two years at work we have conducted a summer camp for teens with intellectual disabilities.  The purpose of the camp is to take a group of 20 high school aged kids, expose them to the Smithsonian Museums.  The kids pick a topic from the museum research it, take pictures and in the end make a film about their experience and their topic.  I am lucky enough to be one of the people who coordinate this camp.  I work with a great team of staff, educators, and volunteers who make this possible.  We call it the “Good Egg” camp, because everyone if draws into it’s circle is a gem. 

The kids are no exception (now in the interest of full disclosure, I am the one that selects the participants).  Each year we have had the best; most interesting and entertaining teens participate.  I know I learn more from them then we teach them.  I call these kids the “funny kids.” Not a slight on their disability but rather because I spend two weeks laughing and having the best time, they are genuinely funny!

As much as I love this camp and the time spent there I understand that this “camp joy” is not experienced by little Miss Nin.  I know that the amount of crumbs that she gets to Hoover is a plus but if it is possible for a Labrador to have too much attention, this is that time.  The camp is the breaking point for all her frustration, which she expresses to me through her grumbling and evil looks, all directed at me, of course. 

This year’s camp we had a camper that always wanted to walk her.  So, I would let him take her leash and walk her around the computer lab.  On lap five is when Nin begins the first signs of protest, when she walks towards me and glares.

“Nope, keep going,” I tell her

Lap 7, a very quiet low pitch, “grrr,” comes out of her mouth.  I giggle, “Keep going!”  At about lap 10 she ducks under a table and lays down.  Ok she has had enough.  She surfaces at lunch for her Hoover imitation but is quickly bombarded with hands all over her until she comes running back to me and under the table she goes.  This was the daily ritual. 

Now, the students all have to make a movie and on this particular day they had to search the Internet for 5 facts about their movie topics. I was speaking with one of the campers (the one that walks Nin on her laps) and I ask him what he is doing his movie on. This is our conversation.

“Elephants,” he replies.

“Ok what are your facts? What is unique about elephants?”  I ask.

“They are big, they have big ears, a long nose and a tail.” He replies

“Ok, look at Nin she is big, has big ears a long nose and a tail…so she is an elephant.” I say.

“NO!  She is a dog!” 

“Why is she a dog?” I ask

“Because she is!”  He says.

“But if what makes an elephant an elephant is big ears, a long nose and a tail, and Nin has all of those things then she must be an elephant!”  I respond in an attempt for him to take this thinking to the next level, utilize his five facts to tell me why elephants are unique, but to no avail.

“No!  She is a dog!”  He is raising his voice now.  This conversation goes on for about 5 more minutes until he exclaims…

“FINE! SHE IS AN ELEPHANT!” and he walks away.  I laugh!

Now Nin is referred to as elephant!  

Daddy's Girl and her dog!

I have to apologize to Nin’s faithful followers.  I know that I have not been updating her blog.  Please do not misunderstand, the lack of updates does not mean that lil’ Miss Nin has not been up to her regular old shenanigans, or that she is a reformed troublemaker, nothing could be further from the truth.  She still runs into my coworker’s office and if not greeted adequately (with a treat) will do a somersault and wiggle around on her back until she slams into the wall (there are paw prints on the wall to prove it).  In the new wing at work, when we were leaving she ran full speed directly into a glass door, no need to worry, the door was fine and Nin unfazed.  She still escapes into the crowded museum for her leisurely stroll until someone brings her back.  When the world keeps spinning some things stay the same.  Something I am so grateful for.

It has been me that has been unable to sit down and write the blog, life has become difficult and complicated and I did not know how to write about the antics of a crazy dog when my mind could not stay focused.  We all go through tough times in life and that is a great equalizer of this world.  No matter how strong our  mask is, life is not easy for any of us and the journey has bumps along the way.  We all have to learn the “big” lessons, that the friends we thought we had, may not really be friends when you have nothing left to offer. People will hurt others on purpose and overall life is not always good.  People are not always human.  At my age, I should know these things and I do, but every so often life finds a way to remind me not to be so trusting.

My worry and stress started,  when I left for New York to get my Nin, my Dad came to DC to drive my mom and I.  It was then that I found out that my Dad was in kidney failure and would need a transplant.  He had been on a list, was starting dialysis and my mom nor my sister were a blood type match for him so neither could donate.   I knew I was a match, but I also knew with my Muscular Dystrophy that the doctors would never let me give a kidney.  I was scared and devastated.  I never knew anyone to go on dialysis and stay on for more than a few years before they passed.

I am your typical daddy’s little girl.  I am the youngest.  It was not always like this, we had our troubles growing up.  He spent more time with my sister because she, like he, was the athletic one and they had their sports to bond over.  But as I got older my Dad and I bonded on a more adult level.  Not to mention our love for action movies, TV programs, politics and a good debate.  Over the last few years in DC,  my Dad has been my rock, my light in the storm, reminding me that I am never alone.  It never has occurred to me throughout all these years that he might not always be there for me.

It was great joy in the Flores' household when we found out that my sister was approved to donate a kidney as part of a living donor chain.  Since she cannot donate directly to my dad, she donates to someone who donates to someone who donates all the way until there is a match to my Dad.  The chain that my Dad and sister were in was 7 people long, starting with my sister and ending with my Dad.  There was a sigh of relief when the doctors gave us the transplant date Aug. 7.
I was going to have to stay in DC for the surgeries.  I had work obligations and in San Francisco, I would only be in the way. My Mom had enough to deal with and did not need me around. As the day approached, I became more nervous about the surgery and about both my sister and dad being in the hospital.  It was these nerves that resonated with my Nin.  In her doggy sixth sense she noticed.  At first, it was the little things, she would behave a little better and be a little more attentive, constantly surveying the situation letting me know that she was there.

On the day before the transplant was to take place my Dad went to the hospital with chest pains and the transplant was called off.  The next morning he went back to the ER and ended up having open heart surgery.  My world fell apart, I was in DC and my Dad was having surgery in CA.  As soon as my sister called to tell me what had happened, Nin came to me, gently placed her head on my lap as I heard the news.  For that day she stayed with me in bed, which is not usual for Nin, she stayed still but always had a paw on me so I would know that she was there.   She even poked her head in the shower as if it was her job to check on me.

I have seen my dogs react to my behavior, I have seen them be difficult when my mood was bad, be silly when I am silly and be stubborn, well all the time, but this was different.  She was just there for me, not assuming, not demanding, not asking for food or to play but just being by my side.  We have managed to get through the rough patches together.  Each day my Dad gets a bit better and stronger and Nin becomes more and more her rambunctious doggy self.  But for a few days there, I experienced her potential, as my support and a service dog.  I am continually amazed by her each day, as she becomes more and more of a necessity in my life.  When some people look at her they see just a dog but in her I see my physical and emotional strength.

Birthday's and Anniversaries!

Nin in her Princess Birthday outfit!  (He He!) 

Last month Nin and I had our two year anniversary,  two years together and no major incidents, so far good thing!   This month she turned four, my little girl is growing up.  Help us all.  I am told that Labs calm down as they get older but she is not that hyper just a bit crazy.  Her favorite spot is the sofa and she sleeps, until she gets these burst of energy and just goes completely nuts.  I am not sure what that is all about, do they make medication for this behavior?

I think back on the last two years and what they have meant, headaches, getting slapped in the face in the middle of the night as she decided that she is going to chase the monsters on my bed.  Pillows and blankets that go missing in the middle of the night, some still have yet to be found.  I remember bringing her home and being so excited and hesitant, I remember how well she knew all of her commands and how quick she was to react to a command,  now I am convinced she is broken.  I know what you are thinking, I must have done it but really, it rains here in the DC are and I think that she has shorted a fuse!  She needs some electrical work done.  Just the other day we were at one of the metro elevators, a button that she hits almost daily and I am giving her the command, “Nin, push!”  Nothing, she did not move. “ Nin, don’t,” in my firm voice, “Push!”  She looked straight ahead as if she had never heard this command before.  I gave her a weak “Krista” correction and nothing.  We repeat this a few times.  Right before I am about to roll onto the metro rail tracks with her attached to me, she jumps up pushes both buttons (up and down) and while still up looks at me and glares.  Granted this is not helping her argument that she does not know how to hit the elevator buttons because now she has hit both of them with perfect precision, but the glare.  I was not sure if I should laugh or cry.  Clearly broken!  This is what I have to look forward to, what the next years have in store;  lots of attitude, little work and a lot of laughs.  I guess when it is all said and done it has been a good two years!  Happy Anniversary my Nin and Happy Birthday! 

Holding On!

Nin at the Haupt Garden

I received an email yesterday from the graduate coordinator at CCI.  Apparently, a graduate (a person like me with a service/companion dog) had his/her dog running off leash and s/he ran into the street and was hit by a car and killed.  Sad story!  All of us have had our dog outside and off leash from time to time, or dropped the leash while the dog sniffed around enjoying the grass.  This story was a bit of an eye opener for me.  Dogs live such short lives as it is but this reminds us that innocently so quickly these crazy little beasts can be taken from us. As well trained as they are, our dogs are not robots, machines, appliances (although I might question if Nin is really a garbage disposal in disguise).  They are dogs with instincts that cannot always be controlled with the command, “Don’t!”.  Just try to put a sandwich in front of Nin and tell her “LEAVE,”, you will quickly know what I mean.  You MAY be able to hold her attention for a few minutes but don’t blink or look away or that sandwich will be gone, at lightning quick speed, speed you’ve never seen before.  Nin is good too, she can return right back to where she was in her original “stay” command looking at you with those eyes that say, “I did not eat that sandwich, you must have imagined it was there.  Let’s go get your head checked!” 

Normally when walking Nin outside she walks with trepidation.  This dog has absolutely no survival skills, her idea of roughing it is when her bowl is not in its raised holder and she has to bend down all the way to the floor and eat as the bowl moves around.  She is always looking around to make sure her “person” is close, flexi lead, 6 foot lead, not really needed because that is a bit far from her person.  Now, I am far from kidding myself to think that person is me, I found out about two days after having her that it did not have to be me, any person who could access the food bowl would serve as her “person”.  She has never been all that particular about who that person is, she does have her favorites though, normally boys (we’ll get into that later).  So, after her independent adventures in the museum, her wondering days have been over.  Her biggest fear in life is that she will get caught somewhere where there is no food, water (in a bowl) and a sofa to sleep on.  So, I have never really worried about her running away or running across the street.  Now, Ivan, my first dog, he was a runner.  I could not open the door for a pizza without him taking off, full speed into the next county.  Nin, sees the pizza and is not going anywhere.  If her life is driven by comforts, food is at the top of her desire list –that’s a Lab! 

That being said, I have never thought of the outside world as a dangerous place for my Nin.  Would she really ever venture more than a few feet from me?  Then I got the email and I began to think.  What if she got a whiff of a turkey sandwich from a passing car?  I have already established that the draw for her is the food and not me.  What if it is a Mercedes or a Lexus, I make her ride the metro, would her thrive for luxury outweigh the love that she receives from me and the excitement of riding the metro each day.  Can you really replace, squishing in a metro car, while cranky people get upset because the dog is taking up valuable floor space, I mean the cursing alone is an education!  How could she give this up? But somewhere inside my brain, I fear that she might, or be tempted to jump into a nice cushy car. 

I think about Nin’s life and wonder why would she ever run?  She gets 2, not 1, meals of kibble each day (main ingredients is chicken, or something like it), she gets to sleep on a 4 foot round bed on the floor, she spends her day picking up dropped pens, pencils and keys, pushing dirty elevator buttons; the words that she hears more than anything is “don’t” and “leave,” occasionally she gets a “touch that and I will break your furry neck,” {please note, no dogs were abused in the course of service }; she has her tail pulled and her eyes poked by small children; she is stepped on in the metro; she is subjected to loud music, bad TV; and boys lots of boys.  Why would she want to leave? 

Well,  come to think of it…maybe I should hold on to her leash a little tighter at least until I finish my letter to President Obama calling for to ban all cars or moving vehicles from the streets (and sandwiches)!  

Creature Comforts!

We all seek creature comforts.  For me it is a few big squishy down pillows, a big soft bed, the best Egyptian cotton sheets, and a puffy down comforter.  Ok, go ahead call me a snob, it isn’t the first time, it won’t be the last and when it comes to my comforts it is a title that I have learned to wear proudly.  Now a dog on the other hand is suppose to be a dog.  Comfort is found in the form of whatever is convenient for them and close by when they feel the need to plop down.  Whether it be the middle of the concrete sidewalk, a stack of papers or books that you are using for work, or the middle of the kitchen floor where you are trying to cook, comfort is not as important as access, access to you, food, a quick pet or just a reminder that you are sharing space with another living being.  At least that was the case until I met the Nin. 

My first hint should have been in training when she immediately took a liking to my miniature twin bed that I was sleeping in at the dorm.  In my opinion, a twin bed is not big enough for one person let alone two, so I was not sure we would survive the training period but I knew we would be ok when we got home because my bed was bigger and she would never come up on the bed unless invited, thus the “jump” command. 

My plan at home, as with all my service dogs is that they could have a place on the  furniture if invited and if on their designated personal blanket.  There is nothing worse than having company over and having them stand up from being on the sofa and have a backside full of dog fur.  Steeler had never really felt the need to be on the sofa and Ivan only wanted to be there if I was on it so no worries, with Nin it should be no different.  Not so.  It took no more than three hours of acclimating herself to my condo before she decided it would do as her comfortable home and she jumped right up on the sofa and made herself comfortable.  Now, I mean comfortable, she pulled down the throw pillow rested her head on it and went to sleep.  As soon as I noticed this I immediately gave her the “off” command, I knew this was not a president I wanted to set for her.  The off lasted all of 10 minutes while I left the room, and she was back – right in the middle of the sofa, stretched out, head on pillow.  Not a care in the world. 

In my bedroom the battle was not too much different.  I got into bed and started getting settled and BAM as graceful as an elephant she jumps on the bed and starts making herself comfortable, on me no less.  A queen size bed and she cannot find enough room without encroaching on my space.  This pattern lasted about a week before she stopped jumping on the bed during my waking hours.  Mostly, she just waited until I fell asleep and then jumped on the bed, very kind of her.  Or she would wait until I got up and then make herself comfortable in my spot with her head on my pillow.  I still cannot break her of that.  We would battle over the bed until she figured out that she could lay on her side of the bed and still touch me.  She has to touch me, to let me know that she is there.  She does not always wait for a command and it is something that I kind of have given up on but not the sofa…the battle continues.              

Two chenille throw pillows and a ruined blanket later and we are still battling over the sofa.  I have tried everything.  “Put the bottom cushions up on the edge,” said my mom.  I came in the room to find her curled up on the base of the sofa, she had pulled one of the cushions down and had her head on that one.  “Put tin foil on the sofa, the dogs don’t like the sound or the feel of it,” said a trainer. “Okay!” I tucked in the corners and had it all the way across the base of the sofa.  It took about 30 minutes (it slowed her down) but she ripped it in half, squished it to the side and laid down on the sofa.  “Try newspaper,” said a puppy raiser.  That lasted all of five minutes as she gently grabbed it with her mouth and took it off the sofa and placed it on the floor.  “Put pillows on the sofa,” offered my mom.  She jumped up and just pushed them off and used one to rest her head.  “UGH!” 

The sofa battle continues, I keep a close eye on her and when we sleep the door is shut so she does not get the opportunity to make her bed on it.  She has taken over the sofa in my office which was for visitors so now I just choose to pick my battles with her.  Don’t ever underestimate the lengths a dog will go to seek her comfort!