“Our new dogs require praise–lots of praise,” said L. “It’s all in the voice. Nowadays a guide dog loves it when you say good dog with a tone of true joy. Try it!” And we all said good dog just as L had shown us, with as much new joy as we could each muster.
Corky raised her face to look at me, her yellow lion head pointed straight up. And every dog in the room did the same. Something palpable went around our circle–the star of praise that dogs can see was set free by our voices. Good dog! Our exaggerated tones were like laughter in an opera. And all the dogs experienced synesthesia and saw a shining standard. Tails were wagging.
“We say good dog because Guiding Eyes dogs really want to work,” said L. “They have been through many months of training. These dogs enjoy their jobs. But just like you, they require praise. From this moment on you will be saying good dog as much as a hundred times a day.”
Who affirms good things even a dozen times a day? Who makes “talking goodness” a habit of her or his minutes? I sat there with my new dog and thought about the “talking blues”–I’d heard of vocal sorrow, but never a running, day long practice of spoken good.
Planet of the Blind 