Welcome Little One

It would be hard to describe the tumult of emotions that were running through me one seemingly innocuous Thursday afternoon. If I had to describe it I’d say it was a combination of the joy of Christmas morning, the uncertainty of the unknown, the hope of freedom, the trepidation of erring, plus so much more. And it was all due to one tiny, furry, four-legged bundle of cuteness. My future hopeful service puppy, Ace.

When I was first broached the idea of a service dog I almost immediately dismissed the thought. I didn’t consider myself “disabled enough” for a service dog, I knew how much work it would take (both in training and afterwards when fully trained), I was uncertain how a dog would fit into the lifestyle we had planned for ourselves, not to mention they are very expensive and I had zero contacts in the service dog world. It’s a daunting world to enter with all sorts of new rules and regulations, and with all the cons against it, I just didn’t think it was for me.

As time went on though, things about service dogs kept popping up in front of me. I would stumble across a blog about a service dog and their handler who has Ehlers-Danlos or POTS/Dysautonomia. I would read a chapter in a book that discussed the different ins-and-outs on becoming a service dog handler that also provided multiple resources and tips. I would be forwarded a video on how a service dog helped their owner find freedom and independence despite their daily struggles. It seemed that everywhere I turned there was something about service dogs. I finally conceded defeat and started actively researching what it would take to become a service dog handler. It was no less daunting than before, but at least I was more informed this time around and more willing to entertain the idea.

Perhaps the biggest shift came when my parents moved near us and my mother (who conveniently is a professional dog trainer) offered to help train a service dog for me. Now the dream was a lot more in the realm of reality. Having someone close to me who knew my exact needs and was willing to work one-on-one with me from puppy to adult was a God-send. It’s an extremely rare opportunity and one I wasn’t going to dismiss lightly. The deal was cinched when she and my dad offered up to me the Vizsla pup that they were supposed to get and said that they were willing to be puppy-raisers and foster and train him until I was able to take him in (aka when he was no longer a crazy puppy and I was able to handle it with my health). The breeder was more then willing to allow us to swap places and put my parents on a waitlist for a puppy from a later litter, we just had to cross our fingers that one of the males from the current litter was suitable to be a service dog. At 7 weeks old the litter was temperament tested and out of the four males three of them were found to be suitable for service dog work. They were also all found to be structurally sound for the mobility work that I need. Hallelujah! We couldn’t have found a better litter for my needs. I was in.

After looking at dozens of pictures and videos from the online blog, as well as visiting the litter in person a few times, I secretly (well, not so secretly) had a favorite among the males. He was a curious, boisterous little man who loved getting into mischief but had the sweetest little soul. When I first met him he bounded right up to me as if to say, “I choose you,” and after some playtime curled up in my lap for some snuggles. I was a goner. I didn’t admit it then, but my heart would have ached if I had gotten paired up with another male. When I learned that he had been selected for me I did the biggest happy dance I could in the car and couldn’t stop grinning all afternoon.

I counted down the days until we could pick him up and I was a buzzing bundle of nerves until we got him in the afternoon. When we finally got to the meeting spot I paced around until we met up with the breeder. I couldn’t believe that he was finally here! As I snuggled him and endured his lavish puppy kisses I buried my face into his fur to hide my tears. It was hard to contain my emotions at that moment because this was the first step on our journey together. A journey that will take over two years and hundreds of training hours to complete. A journey that will require dozens of outings to numerous places. A journey that will likely require me to endure uncomfortable questions and undoubtably some confrontations. A journey that will change my life forever. As I snuggled my little Ace man there were so many “what ifs” running through my mind.

What if, what if, what if…

As all those “what ifs” ran through my mind I also began to think of some other “what ifs.”

What if, what if, what if…

What if I focus on all the amazing “what ifs” that he can bring to my life? What if I choose to begin this journey with hope in my heart rather than fear? What if I trust that the future will turn out the way that it is supposed to? What if, what if, what if…

As I step out onto this journey with Ace there are a lot of unknowns. Just as with my diseases I don’t know what will happen day-to-day. I don’t know if training will go well that day or will go poorly. I don’t know if the outing will be a success or a failure. I don’t know if I will teach him the command well or if I will have to go back to square one. It is a journey that we will take together one day at a time but it is a journey that we are not taking alone. We have the support of my mother and the service dog community around us. We have the support of my husband, children, father and those close to us. We have the support of my medical team, and we even have the support of folks we don’t know. This road we walk is surrounded by those who care for us. We walk on a road buoyed by positive “what ifs.”

This journey is bound to be filled with both mountains and valleys and everything in between. We will have many stories to tell when we get to our destination, and the stories won’t end there as our journey will hopefully continue on throughout the years. As with all journeys it begins with a single step, and at the end lies a partnership and companionship that few can understand. Here’s to taking that first step. Here’s to the “what ifs.”

Welcome little one, my Ace up my sleeve.