Here comes a dog who knows something big. She’s a “distraction dog” and today is “distraction day” at Guiding Eyes. At Guiding Eyes everyone has a job, dogs and humans, even this hyperactive Jack Russell Terrier with big eyes. Her name is “Daisy”. Her assigned duty is to leap, twirl, stand, lick, bark, and of course, act larger than she really is.
She’s joined by several canine comic actors. “Moose” a chocolate Lab, who looks hungover, like he had a few too many Brandy Alexanders last night at the Kennel Club; “Maxine” a Rottweiler, graceful and wide awake; “Leah” a Golden Retriever who started as a guide dog but was released because of noise distraction–to spare her feelings they call her a “career change dog” and her new role requires her merely to look good, something all Goldens can do. There’s “Simon” another career changer with the tallest ears of any German Shepherd you’ll ever see. And there’s a Lhasa named “Bingo” who spins around and around, waiting for the big show.
Everyone, dogs and dog trainers, has a position–this is like gym class in school–in a moment the action will begin but now positions are being parceled out and a few basic rules are revisited. There’s a line of folding chairs in the middle of a great room and portable fencing affixed alongside, effectively dividing the space into two zones. The distraction dogs are on the east side, running up and down the fence, happy at their unbelievable luck. Their job is to make noise, leap and romp, but above all, to try with every canine guile to trick working guide dogs into losing their focus. What a great job!
In the wild dogs play when the world allows it–when the pack has been fed and the fields are safe. So this isn’t just an exercise, not to the distraction dogs, this is a signature moment of collective goodness. The game means its a good life.
Now come the guide dogs wearing their brand new leather harnesses. Each works beside her trainer, alert, wiggling just a little, because pandemonium is just two feet away on the far side of a temporary fence. Guide dog one is leading her trainer, head up, tail wagging. Daisy the Jack Russell is hopping up and down like her paws are on fire and she’s yipping at the top of her voice, the Jack Russell way of saying “No one gets out of here alive!”
And because Daisy is on fire, the others perk up. Moose shakes off his hangover and barks as if a miracle is occurring. It’s the surprised bark of a Lab, a little bemused. And he follows Daisy up and down the fence. If he was a man he’d be clapping his hands. And Leah the Golden gets the scoots–she runs up and down without paying any apparent attention to the guide dog–she’s going as fast as she can straight toward a far wall. Then, like an outfielder, she hits the breaks, spins, and runs as fast as she can in the opposite direction. Sheer joy has overtaken her. Then in the middle of the room she just throws herself into spinning. She’s officially become a dervish. Simon the shepherd looks concerned as if this might be catching and then he starts barking as if issuing orders.
And our guide dog is walking her side of the fence like a true stoic, never breaking stride, even when Bingo the Lhasa goes stumbling into a chair, knocks it, then backs up and issues a stream of ancient invective–a shouting, tiny, hairy little savant with beady eyes and a lot to say.
More dogs are introduced to the distraction side: beagles, a poodle, a few undefinable ones, and the pandemonium is fair wondrous. Noses are sharp, eyes are sharp, barks and yelps and open field running and across the fence the guide dogs and handlers walk the gauntlet like officers of the deck, so poised and focused its unlike any dog-work you’ve ever seen. Distraction day, the pure Apollonian-Dionysian game that shows all the glories of dogs at work and play.
Planet of the Blind 