You know the tale of the little girl with a curl, in the middle of her forehead? Well, my guide dog Uska's a bit like that. I only say a bit because when he's good, he is very, very good. But he's never bad, and he's never horrid. He does however, have his moments. Oh, I have mine too. When it comes to being blind, I'm not very good at it, and Uska has to cope with that. I guess some days we drive each other nuts, which is hardly surprising because we truly are a 24/7 partnership. Mind you, I do love the bones of him and not just because he's totally changed my life.
Since I first got him, I've been wondering what is really going on in that head of his, especially when he's working with me in supermarkets, or at parties, or on trains, and even in hospital casualty wards. During the early months, he was the only dog I knew who could make his harness look rakish, like a lovable rascal in an old Hollywood movie. If he'd spent as much time learning to work with me, as he spent on artfully dodging his way to any dropped chips, he'd have been guide dog of the year. As it was, he managed to guide me down the aisle and a rock sliding mountain. He played paramedic for a day and stayed right by my side as my health got worse and worse. All this before he was three years old.
Confessions of a Guide Dog is Uska's version of events, during that extraordinary first year. His "lick-n-tell" memoires are as loyal and loving as a Labrador could make them, but they do come from a dog, and dogs don't lie. Expect some home truths about the human race, blind living, and dog loving, all told with a humor that reflects the effect he has on people around him. This should spread to everyone who reads them. Despite our teething problems, we made it, largely thanks to the training efforts of the team at Guide Dogs. And he did make me laugh; still does in fact. Now he's getting on a bit, he's more precious than ever, so, I'd like to help raise funds for more guide dogs.