I will no longer be updating Iron Guide (see below). Instead, I am now writing at my new, personal blog. Though that will be about some of the newer things I'm doing in life, if you want to see updates about Louie, Lester, and now Dusky, add me on Facebook -- there's enough ridiculously cute pictures to go around.

We just got the July 25th phase report. Louie is in phase 10! That means he's passed the slew of evaluations in phase 9 and has just one more evaluation to go in phase 10. Wow. He's almost done!

Keeping my fingers crossed.

Labels: Louie

Permalink | Written at 1:51 PM | Post a comment | 5 comments | Trackbacks

I take it back. I take it all back.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 3:19 AM | Post a comment | 10 comments | Trackbacks

Koji is very, very jealous. Whenever my mom, dad or I try to pet Lester, Koji actually starts scolding us! WOOF woof woof WOOOF WWWWOOOOF. (Translation: "Hey! Why is this kid getting all the love?! What about ME?") Failing that, he tries to nuzzle up to someone to try and steal the attention. Funnier still, sometimes, he trudges off to his favorite spot (seventh step on the staircase) and sulks until someone goes and brings him back.

What a big baby. He's now nine years old.

Lester just wants to be friends. More than anything else, he just really wants to be friends with Koji. Around the house, Koji is the big dog, the cool kid, the hipster. Who wouldn't want to be his friend? Lester sure would. Whenever he can, Lester tries to go steal a lick -- or, if Koji is asleep, maybe even a couple. Clever, perhaps; brave, no. =P Often, with Koji laying on the bed, Lester tries to push up against it, leaning as hard as he can, stretching as far as he can, simply trying to say hello. Koji just looks on, seemingly wondering why the little kid just can't take a hint. Usually, Lester can't quite reach far enough; when he can, Koji lets out this exasperated sigh -- not kidding -- gets up, and shifts himself over a few inches, again just out of reach. When Koji doesn't have the advantage of higher ground, he tries to hide in his other favorite spot: under the coffee table. That usually doesn't work too well.

But here's the kicker. Sure, Lester and Koji have a bit of sibling rivalry. Lots of dogs do, I'm sure. Sure, the energetic little upstart that is Lester irritates Koji, who is quite happily settled in his routine and ways. Happens everywhere. No, the funny thing here is the pissing contest. You know, the metaphorical pissing contest? Two guys trying to out-do the other just to impress someone? At work, in politics, hell, on the street, it's not really hard to find examples. But, excluding drunk frat guys, it doesn't usually involve, you know, pissing. No sir, not here. Koji and Lester engage in real pissing contests. When I take Lester out to the backyard to relieve in the morning, Koji follows right behind. Lester, on leash, circles and sniffs (and circles and sniffs) around me and Koji looks on, observing every move. At some point, Lester lets it rip and that's when Koji springs into action. As soon as Lester finishes up, Koji moves in and pees right over it. Every time. In the morning, after lunch, late at night. Even if it's just two drops, Koji will make sure business is handled. Nothing metaphorical about it.

Labels: Lester

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A few days ago, my mom flew out to India. My dad and I saw her off at the airport, which -- really, let's not kid ourselves -- means that my dad, Lester, and I saw her off at the airport. Airports are tough in general -- tons of stressed-out people, police with some mean-looking dogs, odd-sounding oddly-timed voices over the loudspeaker, heavy luggage carts that sometimes don't look where they're going -- but the international terminal at LAX is just obscene. You could hardly see through the crowds at times!

Lester did just marvelously. In line, where we waited for more than an hour, Lester stayed perfectly by my side, laying down waiting most of the time, getting up and walking the few steps with me when the people ahead moved a little. Thirteen compliments! I counted. =) Six people wanted to know more: How old is he? How long is the training? Isn't it hard to give them up? Do they charge the people getting them? One even seemed interested in raising. He did, however, seem most interested in the fact that the other five people talking to me were all women. =P Wading through the crowds, Lester played it totally cool, ignoring the huge, overloaded carts of luggage, not at all perturbed by all the people swarming around him. Looking at the crowd from his height [picture at right], how you can barely see through it, it's actually a bit scary.


I was very, very impressed. Lester got insane amounts of praise. His tail was in overdrive the whole night.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 9:26 PM | Post a comment | 3 comments | Trackbacks

I post a lot of funny little Lester escapades: some just funny, others a little crazy, occasionally downright disgusting, and often not very guide-dog-like. But, even though little Lester supplies me with lots of amusing blog material, in reality, Lester is starting to grow up and show his potential as a proper working dog. I really realized how far Lester has come while writing last month's report:

Outside of dog distractability, Lester is doing very well while on duty. He's been keeping very long hours with me at work, taking the bus across town for meetings, working from cafes, going into loud, heavy crowds, attending parties with food and other toys strewn over the place, and generally being an example of good working dog behavior. One particular time a couple weeks ago at a friend's July 4th party comes to mind: in a small apartment filled with more than twenty people, I had to leave him in a down-stay for about half an hour while I was in another room. When I came back, Lester was in same spot, awake, worried, and scanning the room for me, but still exactly where I had left him. Considering all the people, everyone's general excitement and interest in Lester, the food on the tables and crumbs falling to the floor, the fireworks, and the loud music that was very, very impressive. All in all, I think that when we solve this dog distraction problem, Lester will be a very strong working guide.

He may not be the perfect-4.0, student-government-president, soccer-team-captain student that Louie was, but he's still a very promising young puppy. Lester is averaging something more like a B- and might be more interested in the ladies than making the debate team, but he's got his moments of brilliance. He's getting A-pluses in some things... it's just that he's getting Ds in others. You know how all good Indian boys are supposed to grow up to be doctors, i-bankers, or engineers? Kaushal and Karan were teasing me that, you know, not everyone has to become -- the guide dog equivalent of -- a doctor. Maybe we should look into some kind of other career for Lester? Acting, perhaps? "Kushal, you're just perpetuating the stereotype."

=P

Lester has a lot of potential. While on duty in restaurants, at work, in the car, on the bus, wherever, he's practically a model of good behavior. You forget that he's even there! (As it turns out, that's actually my test to know when we've properly trained these boys. If they're so well behaved that no one else at, say, a restaurant or movie theater even knows he's there, well, that's about all we can ask for.) He knows all his commands, usually listens on the first time, walks alongside me without pulling, checks back up on me every few seconds, ignores everything from flying leaves to backfiring pickups to heavy traffic... the problem is that, at home, sometimes he tries to race through the house and, elsewhere, is very interested in other dogs. We just need to iron those issues out.

You know, come to think of it, that's exactly how they referred to me back in school: "shows great potential". Oh, the memories. :) "Needs to turn in his homework in on time." "Needs to sleep less in class." "Needs to follow directions."

But, I turned out OK. Here's hoping the same for Lester.

Labels: Lester, Louie

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Lester and I are road tripping it down to LA. So far, we've come down the Oregon Coast on 101 and, yesterday, we swung over to Crater Lake yesterday. Today, we're going to hit up the California redwood forests and, the day after, arrive at home in Cerritos.

I'll post a more in-depth summary later, but here are two favorite pictures so far: Lester and I at Crater Lake, and the Yaquina Head lighthouse on the Oregon Coast.


Getting the Crater Lake shot took more than a few tries. Here's a few snapshots from the spoof reel. Feel free to add your own commentary. :)

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 10:17 AM | Post a comment | 1 comments | Trackbacks

Lester just loves his cone. He loves it so much, he could just eat it.

In fact, he did eat it. Not all of it, but enough to make it obvious that, given another couple nights alone with it, there wouldn't be much left. He really does love his cone -- just... in his stomach and not around his head.

So, for the past two nights, I've taken off his cone just before bedtime. Much happier and way more comfortable, he passes out in seconds instead of fidgeting and squirming around for minutes in the cone. I finished up work around 4am and, like I do every night and every morning, took a quick look at his belly to make sure there wasn't any redness or swelling or whatever. Two more days, his stitches come out and I can stop being the stereotypical over-protective dad, I think. In either case, so far, so good.

Around 6am, I wake up to the sounds of a puppy heaving his guts out. On the hair-trigger response anyone with a puppy understands, I scoop up Lester, run to the bathroom and let him barf to his heart's content. Barf handled, Lester prancing around ready to play, I then go back to the room to find the culprit behind my rude awakening.

Wires? All there.
Blankets? Intact.
Closet? Still closed.
Puppy toys? Still in one piece.
Books? Papers? No shredded paper.
Pens? Pencils? No plastic around.

Hm. That's odd. Random barf? Unlikely. What else?

Cell phone? Wallet? Keys?

All there.

Cone? No more chewed than before.

Oddness. I didn't go out anywhere, nothing's missing from the house, Lester hasn't gone on any walks, what with getting neutered and all. Ah, well, I give up on the barf. I might as well just re-check his stitches and then go back to bed. Still time to rack in a few more hours.

UH.

WHERE'D YOUR STITCHES GO?

...

Yup. Lester ate his stitches.

Much yelping, a frantic call to the vet, and a resurrected cone later, Lester is doing just fine. The receptionist at the vet sounded more amused than worried, so I imagine this happens more than I think. Still, I'm speechless. Eating your own stitches? I didn't even know that was possible! Don't you need... I don't know... something involving a medically-trained professional?

OK. So I checked it out. Here it is, ten-page stitch-removal procedure involving everything from sterile forceps to antibiotics to adhesive strips. Psh. Amateurs. Dr. Lester only needs his teeth.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 11:43 PM | Post a comment | 3 comments | Trackbacks

I never quite realized just how much Lester follows me around in the apartment. It's one thing to have a cute little puppy follow you around from room to room and give you an occasional nudge or lick, but... a cute little puppy with a huge lampshade stuck to his head is an entirely another matter. He doesn't quite realize that, you know, with your head encased in a big lampshade, you occupy a little bit more space. He keeps running into me and poking me in the butt with his lampshade. Amusing but... odd.

Labels: Lester

Permalink | Written at 10:51 PM | Post a comment | 0 comments | Trackbacks

This is incredible. Emily was in Oregon for graduation, and, upon seeing Louie working as a demonstration dog [!], remembered that I raised Louie as a puppy, pulled out her digital camera, and took video of him just for me. This totally made my day when I first saw it yesterday -- thank you so much again, Emily.


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Seeing the old fellow again is great but what especially made my day is seeing how happy he is. You can't see much of Louie in the beginning but one thing you can see is his tail. Wagging. The entire time. Back and forth, from one side to the other. :) Another old friend from our raiser group saw him at graduation and also remarked just how happy a dog he was.

A lot of people have asked me over the years that isn't it a sad thing to make this dog work for his entire life? The craziest version I ever got went something like "Don't you feel bad enslaving this beautiful dog?" from this lady with a little chihuahua perched in her handbag.

Are you kidding? =P I feel bad for your chihuahua.

My usual response is that, no, it's not a sad thing at all. These dogs actually enjoy work. They're called working dogs for a reason. What makes them tick, at their very deepest core, is their incredibly tight bond with their owner: being with them every minute of their day, guiding them through challenging situations, loving them and being loved in return. Guide work is so intricate and demanding that, really, a dog simply wouldn't be able to do it if he weren't completely in sync with his handler. It's the same with other working dogs: rescue dogs, police dogs, even sled dogs I imagine. Making you happy makes them happy. Louie? Louie was happiest when he knew he did something right and got a big hug and praise from me. And when Louie was happy, you knew he was happy: he didn't just wag his tail, he whipped it around. His whole butt moved. If he were near a wall or table, you could hear his tail thwacking against it three rooms down. That boy had a strong tail.

Now, I saw that day in and day out and my friends saw that, but explaining that to someone who's convinced otherwise? It's a bit... tough. Here, though, in Emily's video, you can see what I saw every day. He's working, sure, he definitely is -- but he's happy working. His tail's up in the air the entire time, waving back and forth, but there's this burst of excited wagging when he (correctly) disobeys his handler at the overhead barricade, and he's practically prancing out at the end.

I'm really happy to see Louie so happy. Whoever thought a 25-second video clip could be so wonderful?

Labels: Louie

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