Eighty-Five Pounds of Honesty
(A Demanding Reason to Keep Breathing)

by Deb Yamanaka

I have two dogs. One has been my nearly constant companion for nine and a half years. In the early days he forced me up and out of my chair of busy and demanded that I, at a bare minimum, take him outside for a break. Thanks to early neutering (now not recommended for male dogs but back then he came that way), he topped out at 60 lbs. On a good day. Honor, the dog in question, was born an old dog soul and adapted to my weird lifestyle of sedentary and active in one human. He also learned early on that when we travel, he eats when I eat, and he eats where I eat. That boy has a deep love of steak, and he’s had it in 20 states.

Ten months ago (as of this writing), we added Valor to our pack. Unlike Honor he was not neutered early and so – by a year old – he was a whopping 85 pounds and still growing.

All the things I learned with Honor, Service Dog extraordinaire, I’ve used as the baseline for training Valor. His baseline service training is complete, and he’ll continue to go back periodically for refreshers. At the same time he is learning the tricks of the various trades from his brother. Together with a second handler we work with both dogs – swapping them in and out with me as Honor gets the break he needs and Valor gets the additional training for the rest of his work. This will go on for a while. True service dogs are an investment in every sense of the word. They are costly to train, require patience (especially in the breed mix that works best for me – German Shepherd/Siberian Husky mix), must be kept in tip-top medical health, and need to still have space to be a dog. Because, just like us, they aren’t at their best if they are working 24/7. We’re still in the hybrid mode in this country and that means that unlike Honor – who was in the office 5 days a week from early on, Valor has been alternating between house and office. If Honor is truly an old soul who has seen it all and done most of it from a perspective, “you can love on me but don’t let it go on too long.” Valor, on the other hand, is still a great big demanding handful of opinion, energy, play, and – if he likes you – sheer determination to be your lap dog. He not only wants your attention – he demands it.

When he feels like I’ve been at my desk too long (or working from my couch – which I also do in the evenings) he will literally stand next to me and bark at my face. Directly. AT.MY.FACE. If that doesn’t work, he’ll grab the blanket, shawl, scarf or ACTUAL CHAIR I am sitting in and try to drag it to the door. Even if that door to the back yard is already open and has been for hours – because autumns in Virginia are beautiful and amazing and autumn air should be a thing that fills every house AND because I have a 6-foot fence that surrounds a yard I bought specifically for Honor and now Valor, and they get to run in it and…yes…chase squirrels.

Sometimes they catch them. But that’s another story. Confession. I often yell at him to stop.

He doesn’t. He will keep barking at me and tugging on me and…fact…finding the rolls of my rotund middle aged lived hard and still breathing body…tug on those too. And yet the very important thing he is reminding me even as I am fighting with him is this: all work and no play is not living. It’s not even really breathing. So, whether I like it or not, probably one of the most important things he does for me is remind me that this life only happens to us this one time this one way. We need to take more breaks and find more time for play. Even if that play is letting him dance around the kitchen with me to disco music while I make all three of us dinner. (And yes, I sometimes cook for them too.) So even if I’m not going to get a proper workout today – thanks to my 85 pounds of furry excitable joyful demanding love – I will get in the much-needed movement. And as a result, I’ll get to breathe a little longer.