The Service Dog Experience Begins ...

Months ago the thought first occurred to me that I might benefit from the assistance of a service dog. As is customary when I start thinking about something, I researched the heck out of it. Checked every book out of the library, joined groups, asked questions galore.

I researched the qualifications, the service dog certifications, and typical tasks that dogs can be trained to do to help. I reviewed the Americans with Disabilities Act. I studied the Public Access Test to see how a dog needs to perform in order to be entitled to access in public places.

(This is her dad, Luka)

I even went through a brief, indignant, self-righteous stage when I was railing against "fake" service dogs and the abuse of the ADA by able-bodied people. Well, I may have let most of that go, but watch out if I see you in public with a rowdy dog - I am likely to approach with The Two Acceptable Questions: Are you disabled? Is this your service dog? I'm ready!

Now I've reached a huge turning point. I have a possible match and we are meeting her this weekend! Thank goodness for digital photography - this is her at 5 weeks:

I've done my research. I've gotten a note from my doctor. I've notified my apartment manger. I've even ordered a wire crate ... I've considered every angle: Where will she go potty? Where will we put her kennel? How will we minimize the hair for Sven? How will I keep him from doing too much for her? If she doesn't go to work with me, she will by default be home where he is most of the time ... I don't want to make extra work for him.

But most of all I feel as if the change from "considering a service dog" to "we might be two days away from getting a dog" is amazing.

The best description I can think of is thinking back to the days when my brothers were small. After a long day with them I would be exhausted and just about out of patience: at the end of my rope. Then my mom would call from work to let me know she was leaving and she would ask if we needed anything from the store. The relief was enormous - I knew I was going to survive another day! I was re-energized, ran around trying to pick up the toys we'd had out, ran a vacuum over the floor (Really, mom, I did clean up a bit - you should have seen it before!)

(This is mom, Kalani. I'm sure she's almost as good as my mom!)

You know that moment in Princess Diaries when the William Tell Overture starts playing and Joe drives the limo to rescue Anne Hathaway? Yep, like that.