Tag dogs

I am not a superhero

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I have been trying to write this blog entry since late Thursday– and I have failed to find the time. Each time I approach the task, I find I have a new take on what I want to say.

I have lost my footing.

Eva warned me it would happen. I don’t understand it, and I can’t articulate it well. The closest thing I can say is that I realize that had rigid systems in place to keep myself together, and now my atittude toward those systems is more fluid. That leads me to have a more flexible approach to those systems, making myself believe I can function without such structure, and my productivity falls apart. Or, perhaps another way to put it, the more I recognize the patterns and behaviors that drive me, the more I interrupt them. This makes me calmer, but eradicates my ability to get work done.

Or very simply: I work like I’m in the midst of a manic episode or I don’t work at all.

Yesterday I started realizing all of this, and I thought, “I am not a superhero.”

I don’t know if that makes sense to anyone else, but in that moment, I broke down and cried recognizing that all the jokes other people had made about my capacity to do all the things were true. That is was not normal to approach work with the urgency I did/do. That I performed at some ridiculously high frequencies, that weren’t healthy, and I don’t know if I can do it anymore.

My superpower has always been innate time sense, and I feel like fading away.

One of my dear friends sent me this email responding to a blog post from earlier this week, which I am quoting here for future reference in my own world:

I have no doubt that adderall works for you; there’s a different level of calm in you when you take it. It’s hard to describe from an observer’s point of view, and many might not see anything different, but in borrowing your own image of the filing cabinets, it’s like instead of all this frantic opening and slamming of filing cabinet drawers going on in your head, with some files just landing in the air or on the floor, instead there’s a different set of office workers calmly opening and closing drawers as they file thoughts and ideas away — productively and with a quiet focus, but still getting the job done faster and more efficiently. Not sure that makes sense, but I think those closest to you notice it.

This morning I received another email from a friend who works in the psychological field who, unbeknowst to me, has been reading the blog. She commended me for my willingness to embark on this journey on this potential disaster train.

To top off my adventures with potential undiagnosed ADHD, I reached out to an old friend about some emotions I’ve been having– yesterday was my 27th Wedding Anniversary after all and my estranged husband seems to have really found himself (I am truly happy for him)– and the old friend and I ended up in an argument which made me cry more, right after I got this email from Susquehanna Service Dogs:

Thank you so much for joining us for your Meet the Dogs session and also for your patience as we conducted additional evaluations. I’m sure this waiting period has not been easy.

After reviewing your session and our evaluations, we have determined that there is not a tentative match in the group of dogs that you met.

So friends, that means South and I did not match. I have to trust the process on this one. South was adorable and soft, and smart– which means that hopefully all the future dogs I meet will have the features of Ms. South, and that if I loved South, I will find the future matches even more of a fit. On a practical level, it’s a relief that the process has been delayed. The reality of taking a month off during the college semester, right before the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group Conference that I chair, and when Canyon, the cat who formerly lived under my bed, has made such progress… it’s a lot. I don’t think I realized how close to having a dog I was, and once I get that match I have four months to prepare financially. That means I will lose income, empty my savings account and add a member to the family with minimal time to prepare.

On a medical level, this disappoints me. I have been struggling lately and might be so bold as to say I have been in a period of decline. My neurologist put me in for physical therapy, and if I can get on their list before the end of the year, I will do it, but the reality is I can’t afford to do physical therapy once my deductible resets.

Today Eva and I went to the Nazareth Farmers Market to hear the delightful Larry Sceurman tell Halloween stories… Hopefully, that will be my tale for tomorrow. We also went to Barnes & Noble yesterday to look at the planners, and we each bought one. That should be an entry.

Meet the Dogs

Angel Ackerman 4 Comments

Yesterday, I met the dogs.

Today, I woke up from a terrible anxiety dream for the second time this week.

The first anxiety dream had me working in the newsroom again and I was behind on stories because of my other jobs– and I missed a council meeting because of job conflicts. I considered quitting one of the other jobs and remembered the newspaper hadn’t paid me in a long time. (Yeah, about 18 years.)

This morning I woke one minute before my alarm from a dream where I was traveling, and I was attending some sort of Asian-themed conference in France. I suddenly found myself without plans for dinner and thought I would visit a nice restaurant. And at the last minute, I remembered my traveling companion M was in the hotel. I opened my phone to text and invite him and none of the apps would give me his number. I took out my iPad (I last had an iPad when they first came out, it was a first gen) and it wouldn’t work either. And then some guy tried to steal my iPad, realized how ancient it was and gave it back to me.

And then I got up and walked to the hospital for my bloodwork.

This is what happens when you overschedule, have been life events, and stuff happening.

So, I came to the magic table at Panera to write down my thoughts about the dogs.

We left around 11:20. It’s a 90-minute drive to Grantville, where Susquehanna Service Dogs has a beautiful training facility. Our appointment was for 2 p.m. but when traveling long distances for important appointments, I leave wiggle room for traffic, accidents and construction.

On this particular journey, we always stop at a certain Sheetz before Route 81 that we never remember where it is until we almost miss the exit. We stop here because it has a wall of icee and smoothie flavors. On this particular day, this is extra important because Eva has an ear infection. It is the same exit for Eva’s favorite Girl Scout Camp, Wood Haven.

We always think maybe we’ll stop somewhere else or visit something, but there’s not much out there.

But Eva got her icee. I probably should have gotten gas, but that place is always crazy. I still haven’t gotten gas, and that’s on my mind.

We arrived at the facility early. I checked my email and answered some business messages. We got out of the car and went to the building at 1:45 p.m. We went into the classroom at 2:05 p.m.

I met a whole panel of employees. Many of whom I’ve met before, some were new. The head of the agency was there. Everyone had tablets and paperwork. They asked me about my health, my life, and we reviewed all the tasks that I requested.

And then we got to meet some lovely yellow labs.

This process is long, and weirdly precise. They’ve had several weeks of people meeting various dogs. And they take notes on every interaction to try and match the person with the right dog– personality, energy, brains, willingness to do the tasks needed. If I match with one of these dogs, they will tell me I matched in about a month. But I won’t be told which dog. They train the dog for your jobs before they tell you who it is. Because it could happen that a dog couldn’t learn an important task, or that another dog was better for it. Or maybe a dog completely washes out of the program.

There’s a lot of moving parts.

And as someone who’s worked with animals my whole life, volunteered in cat rescue and dealt with/helped rehab difficult cats, and learned about dogs and dog training from my daughter and her business (and I inadvertently trained a chicken alert dog!), I get it. I trust them to know their dogs and to stand behind their work.

I met four dogs. They use the information from those four dogs to weigh options in the future if this doesn’t work out. So even if this doesn’t come to fruition, it helps get me to the best dog possible.

And man– looking at these videos I feel so old and frumpy. I hate watching myself walk, and I had frumpy even more.

I did attend the session with no muscle relaxers in my system after a long car ride. I wanted that dog to interact with me when I was more prone to need help.

Dog 1: Marlin

Three out of the four dogs were large and male and from the fish-themed litter. Marlon was the name of the local police officer who would come break up the fights when my mom and dad would have violent fights.

He was big, but not huge. He did his job well, had his basic obedience down. His only interest was food. He didn’t really want to interact with me socially, he actually back away a few times. But he did what he was asked to do. When we walked together, his heel was a tad drifty.

Dog 2: South

She was the oldest (by two weeks) and the only female and from the Wanderer litter. South is also cardinal direction associated with fire and creativity, but I can’t pick a dog on my witchy ways. At first I thought her name was Sal, then I thought Sol, like Sun. But when they said it again, I realized it was South.

Angel, a trainer, and SSD South

She had a bright pink collar. That’s my business color. And when I touched her– she didn’t feel like a lab. She felt soft. She was like a stuffed animal I wanted to cuddle. She came out and greeted me. And she was excited to meet me and interacted with me more than looking for food. She prances when she walks. She has a really nice gait. When we didn’t tell her to do anything, she sat down and focused on the treat pouch. When we still didn’t ask her to work, she flopped down on the floor and waited.

And she was small. Compared to the boys. I liked that about her. Some of the trainers said some people found it hard to treat the smaller dogs because you had to reach down. And her heel was tight– so much that when my treat pouch shifted she followed it. And because of that I thought I was failing her, when it reality, the treat pouch had moved. And when we were sitting and it came time to treat her, she patiently put her head in my lap instead of getting pushy like the boys.

They asked if I could take a dog home today, fully traied, who it would be. I said South. Eva said South.

Her small size would make my life easier with the strange and crowded types of public access we might encounter. And there’s a good chance this dog will end up on a plane or at the very least a train. But her mellowness when we weren’t working is great for my office days. And I believe the incident with the treat pouch shows she can walk on the right. That’s the main task we need.

Dog 3: Skip

My father’s brother was Skip. So another dog with a name from my past. And another fish. He was massive and a drooling mess. And I was told he was not a candidate, but they were giving him a chance to learn and practice by meeting me. He had me covered with drool. He was the biggest dog. And he had so much energy and pushiness. And he struggled with basic commands.

Dog 4: Pike

Smaller than Skip. Bigger than Marlin. Another fish. High energy. But fairly patient and responsive. If I needed a big dog, he would be my choice.

Reflections on Health Improvement (and other updates)

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

Part One: Reflections on Life Insurance

Earlier this month, I received a letter from my life insurance company. When I turned 50, my term life insurance policy could no longer continue at the rates I had paid for 20 years… after all, I am old now and the likelihood of my death exponentially increases.

I thought I had reduced the coverage– after all, the house is almost paid for now and the child is almost out of college so the need to have a healthy policy no longer seemed so important. Now I just want to make sure the child can burn me up and dispose of my ashes. Apparently, I never complete the process and find myself receiving a new letter that my premiums are almost doubling, after they almost tripled last year.

I called the company, spoke with an agent, and reduced my current coverage. But to maintain a long-term policy at stable rates, I needed to prove I was insurable. I scheduled an appointment for two weeks out to have bloodwork, urine and measurements done as part of a physical. For that two weeks, I drank no Diet Coke, ate no added sugar, avoided salt and processed food, ate lots of fruits and vegetables, drank ridiculous amounts of water and took my vitamins.

I lost seven pounds in that two weeks. All while thinking about the fact that life is so much harder when you’re not traditionally healthy. It doesn’t matter if you’re fat or disabled or diabetic. Part of the issue with my life insurance stemmed from the fact that I had an incident of Afib with RVR after a bad fall four years ago. Here’s some of that saga.

I believe, and my cardiologist agrees, that the Afib occurred due to bodily trauma. It was my second hard fall in two weeks that required medical attention and my body had enough. I have not been taking any medication, and my blood pressure has been fine. (And part of me still wonders if food doesn’t play an issue in that.)

But I find myself thinking once again about the gatekeepers who decide what our lives and our bodies are worth, and yes, I’m referring to life insurance and medical insurance companies. It’s exhausting to have to prove to corporations and to doctors what goes on in our bodies.

I finally had a chance to look up the numbers for my test results (and I downloaded the PDF and sent it to my doctor). Most everything looks really good and even the results in the cautionary zone of normal (all the stuff that relates to blood sugar and what not) are still normal. So, we’ll see if the insurance company declares me healthy.

Part Two: Service Dog Update

Yesterday while I was in Maplewood, N.J., with R. Diskin Black, the poet and writer and YA novelist who wrote The Night of Swaying Grass, (an experience I wrote about on my Substack newsletter here and hope to write more here in another entry) I checked my email while we were preparing to leave the diner where we had a classic New Jersey meal: eggs and hashbrowns at two in the afternoon.

I had an email from my service dog program where I have been on the waiting list for a couple years now. This might be the first post I made about filling out the application. 4 years and one month ago. They said then that the process took 4-5 years. This is a post about my early in-person interview. And here’s one from my most recent visit to the training center.

ANYWAY.

The email was from Deb Tack, the executive director at Susquehanna Service Dogs. I open it.

Hi Angel,

I am reaching out today to extend an invitation for a Meet the Dogs session. Please read the following information on how to sign uo and what to expect:

I froze. “Meet the Dogs.” Does that mean what I think it means? My heart skipped a beat.

Now, a few weeks ago, I admitted to Eva that I often felt like I was a failure because I haven’t been able to pay off a $20,000 personal loan I took out when I lost my job at Stitch Fix. It hangs over my head like a car payment without the car. I mentioned that in all this time I haven’t touched any of the money that I have saved to pay for my service dog (some of which came from that $20,000 loan) and that maybe that shows that I should be working harder to pay down my debts, that I do waste too much money, and maybe I should use some of that service dog money to reconfigure some household debts.

“But,” I said, “If I did that, the service dog people would tell me my dog was ready.”

So… Is my dog ready?

I didn’t finish reading the email. I mentioned it to Ray, who in his professional life was a lawyer. I offhandedly mentioned, “Of course, this could happen now. I have my little part-time job in a restaurant so I wouldn’t be able to bring a dog.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“It’s food service. I could bring the dog there to eat, but I can’t bring the dog behind the counter.”

“Isn’t that discrimination?” he replied.

“Put your lawyer brain away!” I told him.

We continued our outing, and checked the oil in my car with a dryer sheet from Food Lion, and read the email in the car, quickly, and forwarded it to Eva without finishing it.

I texted her.

I sent you an email. If you want to call and talk about it, give me ten minutes to find the highway.

Eva, the practical one, replied: I’m leaving for work. We’ll talk when you get home.

When I get home, I don’t have a chance to talk to Eva right away. I book an appointment for September 25, because it’s the only day that Eva and I can both go. It means I have to reschedule my day trip with another author, Geraldine Donaher, but I think she’ll understand. Or so I hope. Then– and only then– do I print and read the letter.

– What is goal of Meet the Dogs? The goal of a Meet the Dogs session is to begin to understand what type of dog you fit best with and what definitive task list our trainers will need to train your dog to perform. We intentionally invite more Partners than there are dogs available to ensure that we are able to make a match. Not every Partner will match during their first session, and some may need to come back for multiple sessions in order to find their match. Overall, our goal is to match you with a dog that you will be able to have a successful bond and work well with for many years to come. 

– What happens during a session? Members of the Partner Services and Training staff will meet with you for your session. First, we will spend time discussing any pertinent updates and then delve into which tasks and cues would be most beneficial, as well as places that a trainer should focus on taking your future dog to train. Then, you will have the opportunity to meet 2 to 5 dogs-in-training, work with each individually for a brief period and provide your feedback. 

– What happens after my session? Following the session, the SSD team will meet to discuss their observations of the interactions with each dog along with the dogs’ responses and strengths.  Approximately six weeks following your Meet the Dogs session, you will receive an email regarding whether you have received a tentative match along with information regarding Team Training. 

– Can I bring someone to the session with me? Absolutely- We highly encourage that a support person/s are present. While they will not interact with the dogs during the session, they will be able to be a second set of eyes, help with building the task list and take pictures and videos should you choose. 

As you can see, there’s a lot of “maybe” in this whole letter– and there’s more when you schedule the appointment. The confirmation reads:

“More potential partners have been invited than there are available dogs to help us ensure we find the right placement for each dog. We know everyone has waited a long time, and those who do not receive a tentative match will experience disappointment.”

No, I won’t be disappointed. I have no doubt the dogs will know. The right dog will find me and any potential disappointment will be flanked by resolution and commitment– that the closer I get to meeting my dog, the more I have to take care of myself, the less excuses I have, so that my service dog and I will have a good life together. When I think back to the animals in my life that meant the most to me, I didn’t pick them. They picked me.

And this dog– this dog is a working dog. This dog has to want to work for me.

Some things are worth the wait.

Some general background

I have applied for a light mobility service dog to improve my gait and help me recover from falls. Statistics show that walking with a dog automatically helps people with an unsteady gait walk better, and my dog will do small tasks of retrieval (fist aid kid, light folding stool), potentially carry items if I need my hands, get my phone if I need help, or pick up items from the floor if I can’t bend. Crazy to think that the steady walk of a dog, and being near it, could decrease my likelihood of falling.

The program with which I am working breeds their own puppies, sends the puppies to families for raising and basic obedience, and only when they are two years old can a dog ethically be cleared for light mobility work. The dog must be cleared by a veterinarian to be healthy enough, big enough and have the bone structure to do such work. If I understand correctly, once the dogs return from their puppy raiser families, they learn certain tasks ALL their dogs learn. Like how to walk with different gear.

And depending on the type of mobility gear– only certain dogs will do that work. A mobility service dog can wear a hard hardness, a soft harness with strap, or just a leash. The bulkier the gear required, the more likely a dog might not want to wear it. In my case, I would be fine with just a leash, though a strap might not be the worst thing.

But there is one potential hang-up for my dog… In my evaluations, if I remember correctly, we determined that while they train the dogs to walk on the left, my dog needs to walk on the right, and the ambassador dog I was working with did not like walking on the wrong side and fought me a little. Apparently, according to Eva, I walk like a drunk with the dog on the left and walk in a straight line with the dog on the right.

Once the dogs are tentatively matched– and the dog could still wash out so even that is not guaranteed– the dog spends time training for the tasks for its handler’s specific needs. Then, a few months later, the dog and its handler spend more than two weeks in an intense in-house training program.

So, it’s an exciting time, and either way, I’ll meet some cool dogs.

Balance Assessment at Susquehanna Service Dogs

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

About three years ago, Eva– my daughter, in the beginning of her career as a pet caregiver and dog trainer– said she wanted to train me a service dog. She wanted something to babysit me once she left home or when I was home alone.

She showed me some videos and I did some research and thought she had a point. When she leaves home, I will be a 50-something woman living alone with a history of falls and accidents. The presence of a dog in my life would keep me active and prevent spasticity issues, improve my gait as a dog’s gait never falters, and perform small tasks like bringing me my phone or picking items off the floor.

I have no doubt that with the right puppy and the time, Eva could train a service dog. But I suggested that for our first experience in the realm of service dogs, we should apply to an official service dog program.

Working with a program would teach us how the dogs are trained, give us support, guarantee good breeding and the physical fitness of the dog, and have some added legitimacy should people question my dog’s work.

Now there are no rules that prevent individuals from training their own service dogs. I think this is why one can encounter a variety of “fake” service dogs doing public access work. [I saw two service animals in the same restaurant this week. One looked like a well-trained Labradoodle with a handler who wasn’t cognizant of her surroundings. The Labradoodle was lying across the main floor area of the restaurant and not tucked under a table. The second was a small dog, perhaps some sort of schnauzer who barked and begged and whined and scratched at its owner’s leg for food the entire time. So, either that handler was having a medical emergency and the dog’s alerts were being ignored or the dog was not properly trained. A working dog should not make noise in public and it should not be distracted by food.]

I understand that training a dog with an agency or a professional trainer is expensive, but people who insist on using dogs for public access that are not properly trained make life harder for those people who have working dogs that don’t misbehave. Improperly trained dogs with public access are the dogs more prone to cause an incident with another dog.

And once I pay for my dog– which will take ALL of my savings– if that dog is attacked or threatened while working in public, that could impact its ability to do its job in the future. My dog might become afraid and unable to focus on its job. So I will have invested all of my money in a dog that won’t leave the house.

In the United States, there are no rules or governing agencies that regulate service dogs. There are, however, rules about what people can ask to a handler of a service dog– Does this dog do work that mitigates your disability? What tasks does the dog do? That’s it.

I have chronicled my service dog adventures on this blog. Here are most of the entries. (I am also working on a disability memoir.) There’s a lot to the process. My dog will be a light mobility dog.

They say the average placement takes four years start-to-finish. We filled out the application with Susquehanna Service Dogs in Summer 2022. I went to their facility and had an interview, fill out a survey of my life and health every six months, did an assessment while working with a dog where they recorded me, brought Eva with me to do public access work in a mall, passed a home visit, collaborated with a case worker to develop a plan of what my dog would actually need to do, and now yesterday, I went back to the facility with Eva for a balance assessment.

They had a mobility professional join us– I believe she was a physical therapist– and I worked with the dog and showed them how I get up off the floor and answered questions about my life and recent fall history. I love when Eva can come because she can tell them her insights. Apparently, she was annoyed because physically I was having a good day yesterday.

I worked with Captain. What we learned was that my dog will need to walk on my right. The dogs are trained to walk on the left, but when the dog is on my left I struggle to walk in a straight line. When the dog is on my right, my posture and ambulation is much more natural.

We also decided that my dog will be guided by a leash, versus a strap or a mobility harness. A mobility harness is rigid and has the most feedback between human and dog. In the photos, I am using a red strap on the far right. The strap was okay, and it’s an intermediary step between the harness and the leash, but it didn’t feel natural. (And the benefit of using leash only is that it gives the dog more freedom and space to get out of the way when I fall. Some dogs are trained to do things when a handler starts to fall, but I want my dog out of the way.)

It also seems like I’m at the proper place in the timeline. The next step: When they have a group of dogs that are flexible enough to work on the right and the right size to work with me, I will get to meet them. It might take a few meetings to find the right dog. Once the right dog is selected and assigned, I believe they will do any specialized training while boarding on site and then I go to their facility for a three-week training session.

The dog itself has to be two-years-old and fully grown and cleared by a veterinarian before entering the work force. Moibility dogs have some of the hardest and most physical jobs out there for service dogs.

Fitness strike out

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I had my intake for the Thrive medical fitness program at St. Luke’s Hospital. I did not finish all of the required testing because my heart rate and blood pressure were too high.

But let’s back up. Perhaps things aren’t as “all or nothing” as I feel right now– I feel like in many areas of my life I am “failing” or “losing” and the reality is that life is more complex than that.

I was soooo excited to join the Thrive Medical Fitness program, and I still am. The staff seems pleasant and supportive.

And I wanted to do stuff.

No doing stuff yet.

I had a 5:30 appointment for the intake, and I was 100% honest on the form about my habits and my medical conditions. After all, it’s a hospital-sponsored program so they have access to at least my medical history anyway. So I told the staff member about my fall history, about my bout of afib, about my orthostatic hypotension, my anemia, and my increase in spasticity.

And I quickly learned that due to all of these conditions, I will not be allowed to workout independently at the facility. I will have to make an appointment and work out with one of their trainers for every workout.

Now, to start, I can see this being prudent, and I hope I will prove I am not a danger to myself and be allowed to drop by and workout. But, if not, my new home gym is almost ready.

So, I accept this. I even try to see the nice staff person’s small gestures to my elbow as I step on and off the fancy scale as kindness. She does not know me, so she has to be cautious. But it would be a delicious story if I fell off a scale. And hurt myself. At the hospital.

Which reminds me of the time I fell down the stairs at the hospital, but that’s another story. You can read that story here.

Then, they took my heart rate and my blood pressure. Both were really high and would not come down.

Part of that might have been because I did not know they were in the basement, and even when I made it to the basement, they were tucked in a corner that had me walking around the whole building for a while. Then I got myself worked up when my anxiety was already doing overtime– I’m thinking a lot about how I’m going to heat the house this winter, what my next strategy will be for maintaining the publishing company’s income, and facing the holidays, a time of year when I typically feel the absence of my family.

So today I started taking my beta blocker again as I initiated my Clever Fox fitness journal. I filled out all the spaces regarding measurements, goals and trackers. Maybe it will force me to be introspective and keep track of my own behavior.

And meanwhile, I have taken Bean Dog for several walks this week. Our first was on last week, and it lasted less than five minutes. We walked halfway up our block and back, just to see how she behaved for me and if she would walk with me and leave Eva behind. The second walk was straight down our street almost 1.5 blocks and straight back, for a total of nine minutes.

Yesterday we walked around the whole block, which took 12 minutes, but about 8 minutes in, Bean spotted our neighbor’s pitty jumping at the fence literally within view of our house and I was afraid to try to get her home. In trying to grab her heel-level handle, I scraped my knuckles on the asphalt and decided to just sit there and wait for Eva to rescue us or for the dog to calm herself.

Today we walked two full blocks (15 minutes) after Eva trained me to use a hands-free leash with a bungee-style lead to absorb some of the force. Eva hooked it to the traditional leash so if she started to react badly I could brace my body weight and use more of my power to balance the dog, and then regain my control by taking the traditional leash back.

We have not had to do that, but it’s good practice and good exercise for both of us.

PS– I return to the medical fitness center tomorrow to resume my intake testing.

People and Dogs: Come on, where’s the common sense?

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

If you don’t know, my daughter– The Teenager about to turn 20– works in the pet care industry, primarily doing dog walks and in-home pet care visits. She is also a dog trainer, and spends a lot of time and energy studying dogs, observing dog body language and finding solutions to people’s problems with their dogs.

She is the one who encouraged me to apply for a service dog, and although I grew up with dogs, she has taught me so much about dogs and why they do what they do.

Her dog, F. Bean Barker, who, will be four this summer, can be reactive and territorial. The Teenager has worked very hard to decrease her dog’s reactivity and expose the dog to situations to improve her tolerance. Today, we took her to a dog park. The dog park is less than two miles away from our home and off-the-beaten path so it’s not as well-traveled as some other local places. It has a lot of green area to explore even outside of the dog park. So, if the dog park is occupied, there is other stuff to do.

This dog park has two sides, one for dogs 25 pounds and under, the other for dogs larger than 25 pounds. Each side has a double gate system, so you can enter the first enclosed room and make sure your dog is ready to enter the other side without risking releasing any dogs already in the park. (In this dog park, there is also a gate between the two sides.)

Now, if you do not have a dog or if you have a rural dog who has no need of a dog park, you may not understand that dog parks can be extremely dangerous. You never know how other people’s dogs will react, and you can find that certain dogs have behaviors that can unnerve the most calm and pleasant dog. Owners often don’t keep close enough control over their dogs inside the park, believing the environment is contained and safe. But just like two normally well-behaved children can suddenly behave like cold-hearted killers on a public playground, dogs can change in this unfamiliar and potentially unmonitored environment.

We know Bean is a good dog, well-trained with a recall, but that she often has a hard time with other dogs especially if they aren’t appropriately socialized. Now, even if you think your dog is “good with other dogs” or “well-socialized,” you may not understand dog body language or stress signals to know how well your dog is doing in a new situation.

Knowing this, we brought plenty of our dog’s favorite treats, put her in a harness and on a prong collar and tucked a can of “pet corrector” into our gear. When we arrived at the dog park, one adult and one child had two small dogs running the entire expanse of both sides of the dog park. The Teenager decided not to engage and walked the dog around the human passive recreation trails.

The family soon left, taking their two small dogs off leash through the parking lot and leaving every gate in the dog park open— the two entering the small dog park AND the interior. That means if someone had entered the large dog park, appropriately, the large dog could have run into the small dog side and exited into the busy parking lot. Really?

Needless to say, this dog grandmother went through and checked every gate before Bean and The Teenager entered.

I sat under the pavilion and watched while Bean and The Teenager explored.

I was technically lookout, because The Teenager had removed Bean’s leash and if another dog came The Teenager wanted enough time to leash her dog and make sure Bean was under control, or at least, obedient.

I looked up from my book (Hunter’s Shea’s Manrattan which I am enjoying very much) and there was an unattended mastiff with no leash standing outside the gate. The Teenager already had Bean outside the dog park and releashed. So, we left.

The owner of the mastiff strolled leisurely to the gate, while his unleashed dog just had free reign. Why don’t people have common sense???

Dogs in public should be leashed. It’s a law. I don’t care how well-behaved your dog is– if it is attacked or frightened, it will end up in a fight. Even the best dog in the world would defend itself in a fight, so regardless of how the fight starts, both dogs could be injured or killed.

And, as someone on a wait-list for a service dog, it angers me to see how many people don’t understand why certain laws exist regarding where dogs can go and how they should be handled. A dog masquerading as a service dog in a store for example not only might create a bad example for real service dogs, but if it is not trained properly it could attack or spook another animal (or a person or a service dog). A service dog that encounters poorly-managed and badly trained animals in public could be attacked or spooked in such a way that it might not be able to do its job, creating a financial and practical hardship for the disabled person relying on that dog.

So please, leash and control your dogs as the laws ask you to do.

The follow-up and the next fall

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Yesterday, I visited my primary care physician. He was thrilled because my blood pressure has stayed at 100-110/70 for the last six months. I am disappointed that my weight has not budged.

Around the last snow storm, I noticed my sinus troubles got so bad that only a day of Sudafed would stop my sneezing (see more here or via the publishing company’s Substack newsletter here) and that since then the mild lightheadness and congestion have not abated. And since I took a flying leap out the warehouse door March 1, 2023 and following that with stair acrobatics at home March 13, I had to ask my doctor– could my sinuses be contributing to my fall risk more than we realize?

So, he changed up my allergy medicine to move me from OTC remedies to prescription medication.

I also mentioned that my heart rate has been stable, even when I have no caffeine or overindulge in the stuff, and that salt has a strong effect on my heart and my weight. But I was no closer to keeping my heart rate under control first thing in the morning.

He asked me to tweak my beta blocker routine to take it before I get out of bed in the morning. And to be completely attentive to it at night. For a month, I am to take both half-pill doses as close to 7 o’clock as possible to see if that prevents my heart rate from jumping from 60 to 80 when I sit up, and then from having another jump from 80 to 100 when I stand. If that balances out my heart rate, he may move me to an extended release medication to maintain my heart rate. Especially since I have a small aneurysm in my brain.

The new allergy medicine he put me on– shifting me from Zyrtec and Flonase to prescription strength Claritin and Nasonex– was ready at my pharmacy by dinner time last night.

“It’s a preferred medication of your insurance,” my doctor said, “so it shouldn’t cost you too much.”

So, the teenager and I took the dog on a walk to CVS this morning where the generics of these two medications, for a one-month supply, cost $93. I know my Zyrtec and Flonase probably cost similar– but I never pay full-price. I use coupons and extra bucks and buy the generic, and on top of all that buy the twin pack and split it with my friend Nancy.

We walk home, and I don’t really complain about the price because I need to know if sinuses are increasing my fall risk and I want to know if I can reduce that risk so the investment is worth it.

On the way home, the dog was frolicking on a small hill, and she came trotting down to catch up with the teenager. She misjudged or maybe lost her footing and raced down the hill right at me, hit me in the legs and sent me flying. I landed on the sidewalk. My knee has a hearty scrape, my hands are sore, and my nervous system is done for the day.

Welcome February or “Wow, it’s been a month!”

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I didn’t realize– or perhaps deep down inside I did– that I did not write in this blog at all in the month of January. I have written in the Parisian Phoenix blog, on my Substack, for the Lehigh Valley Armchair Substack, for Kiss and Tell magazine, for press releases and social media…

But not here.

I have spent much time applying for jobs, going on job interviews, and following up with second interviews, and working with my authors at our small publishing company, attending networking events, meeting with other writers and professionals, and grocery shopping at discount retailers like Grocery Outlet and the Dollar Tree.

(Grocery budget has been $25/week, but this week I splurged and bought a baker’s dozen bagels for $9.50 at Panera because they have a sale on Tuesday, and I used my CVS coupons and their sales to buy 2 boxes of KIND breakfast bars, a box of Grape Nuts and a box of Cocoa Krispies for $13.)

My personal favorite cheap meal this month has been these gnocchi from the Dollar Tree, served with a cream sauce I made with butter, lemon, and some artichoke hearts (using the oil they were marinated in). The artichoke hearts and the Barber Foods Chicken Stuffed with Broccoli and Cheese came from Grocery Outlet. The whole meal cost me about $3 per serving. And I used up some half and half that was on its last leg.

If it weren’t for car insurance for the teen and heat (I’ve been keeping the house at a balmy 60 degrees since I had to pay for $600 in furnace repairs in December), I have enough clients to keep me afloat indefinitely even after unemployment runs out in about six weeks. But the uncertainty of it all is hard. My biggest faux pas since my lay off was dropping the oil cap into the engine compartment of my car while topping off my fluids before a winter storm.

Luckily, good old Southern Candy and her son came to my aid and he fished it out for me– took him 45 minutes and the promise of the $50 cash I had in my wallet. I could hear my Dad laughing the entire time. I swear he’s been playing practical jokes on me from the afterlife with all of these little mechanical problems.

Like he’s checking to make sure I can take care of myself.

Sometimes, Daddy, I don’t know.

We had two snowstorms in January. During one of which, the first actually, one of the Teenager’s college friends spent the night. (Photo: Here they are at about 10 p.m. having a snowball fight with one of our neighbors, a high school friend of the Teen.) The College Friend hails from Los Angeles, so this was her first snow. And we bundled her up in home-knit hats and gloves and sent her out to shovel and play in my snow boots. Because Lord knows I am not going out in that if I don’t have to.

I drove over to the Bizzy Hizzy, the now nearly empty Stitch Fix warehouse, to show my daughter the old Freestyle and Pick carts that had been set out for the trash. The carts are laminated, corrugated cardboard so I imagined they deflated pretty badly in all the rain. I explained to her how we used to pick, and showed her the pencil cans we used to hold our water bottles and the heavy-duty page protectors that held the pack slips after installation of the Big Ass Fans blew them out of the carts. Three years, evaporated and erased.

I’m still working out with Andrew at Apex Training and meeting my strength goals even if I am failing at my weight goals. The Teen says I need to be more body-positive, but I know I am regularly showing more than 500 garbage calories into my body for the emotional sensation of it. And I also know that as someone with heart and mobility issues, being overweight is not helping.

In good news though, because I share so much about my journal both as someone with cerebral palsy and someone who finds strength training cool and empowering, several other members of my gym are now setting strength goals and strength training into their routines.

While visiting Nan the other day I got to meet a really cute dog. She’s a French sheep dog. Nan and her owner both told me her breed and now I don’t remember. I asked Siri and she suggested a Wheaten Terrier or a Goldendoodle and both of those are wrong. So, I googled French sheep dog breeds and it suggested a few and I immediately recognized the word “Briard.” And it is indeed a dog that would get stuck in briars.

And last week, the Echo City guys and I went out to Pints & Pies for burgers for the guys and pizza for me. It was a very tasty pizza. I have been dreaming of it and the cold Yuengling draft I had ever since.

A Day for the Dogs

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Earlier this week, I had an interview with the owner of a doggie daycare/boarding facility about a potential job. I’m striking out with some of my professional interviews, and perhaps they can sense that I really don’t want to return to full-time work. Ideally. I’d like to recruit more editorial clients and focus on Parisian Phoenix Publishing. A part-time job would give me the chance to do that, and provide some stability.

The dog thing happened by accident. I saw it on Indeed and figured “Why the Hell Not?” I’m not the dog-whisperer like The Teenager, but dogs usually like me. And between mothering and petsitting and fostering I have cared for kittens, cats, dogs, rats, parakeets, parrots (this includes Nala and a Senegal), rabbits, various lizards, hermit crabs, snakes, chickens and horses.

And I’ve medicated many of those creatures.

During the original interview, the cleanliness of the place impressed me. It didn’t smell like dog, and it didn’t smell like bleach or harsh chemicals. The facility wasn’t noisy. And there were many varieties of kennels and rooms and play areas for the dogs.

The owner invited me back for a second “working” interview today, so I got to learn more about the ins-and-outs and I got to help with private play for several of the dogs. I caught one larger dog (about the same size and build as our own F. Bean Barker) that got away from the caretaker because he didn’t want to stay in his room. I noticed some expired vaccines on dogs who applied to come in for an evaluation. I made friends with a miniature poodle with red hair that usually didn’t like anybody. I hosed off artificial turf.

In other news, I also followed up on a lead I learned about last night about an office position, part-time, in downtown Bethlehem.

I am trying to capitalize on skills other than food service, as I’d like my resume to follow my eclectic and diverse involvements so keeping it professional or doing more in animal care/welfare seems right for this phase.

We shall see.

I had a bladder and kidney ultrasound today

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

It’s definitely Monday. You know those Mondays when you can’t get motivated and the day drags on forever? Yup, one of those.

I mentioned to my neurologist/physiatrist that sometimes when my body gives me trouble I can’t feel when I need to pee. She tested my urine to see if I had some kind of infection (and I didn’t think I did as this started more than a year ago). When my urine came back clean, she ordered a bladder and kidney ultrasound.

The test begins with an ultrasound of a full bladder, so I had to drink 20 ounces of water an hour before the test and not use the bathroom.

I selected a facility near work, so I could head over directly after my shift. The lobby was loud, and it seemed like every female patient had a two-syllable name that started with A. And then, an old lady stumbles awkwardly through the waiting room, bent strangely, a heavy purse dangling from her arm and, even more maladroitly balanced below her stomach, a toy poodle.

Yes, a poodle.

She practically falls into the chair at registration, and soon after completely her paperwork, releases the dog on a retractable leash and it’s running all over the lobby. It’s certainly not working, and it’s certainly not wearing the appropriate gear to be a service dog.

The ultrasound tech did a magnificent job and we talked at length about Stitch Fix, my publishing company, higher education and then she asked me about my educational background. Maybe she’ll buy some books.