"Till death do us part" is usually associated with weddings, but it's equally true when you become partnered with a service animal. The two of you are truly together in sickness and health, in poverty and wealth, bad times and good times. You complement one another and complete one another.
It was love at first sight between me and Itzl. But I walked away from him. I did more than that. I drove off and left him behind, my heart breaking because the owner wanted hundreds of dollars for him, a dog he planned to put down if he didn't sell that day, and I knew I couldn't afford that.
I shared my concerns with several friends, worried that this charming dog was going to die that night, and they pooled their money so I could buy him after all.
He sat in his cage, his back defiantly turned against everyone. When anyone tried to get near him, he pulled away, turning his head so he didn't look at them. As I walked up with my friends, he jerked his head aaway from another person wanting tolook at him and saw me. You could see the recognition in his eyes. Suddenly, he was up and scrambling at the bars of his cage to get to me. No sooner was the cage opened than he was up and in my arms, where he collapsed with a contented sigh.
My friends negotiated his price and got his papers. We all agreed it was money well spent.
I thought at first he was going to be just another rescue dog. I've rescued and trained so many unwanted dogs, placing them in homes that needed them. I've trained medic alert dogs, allergy dogs, hearing dogs, and just plain pet dogs, but none of those dogs were mine. Even though I found them and brought them home and trained them, their hearts were always searching for someone else.
Itzl quickly proved he belonged to no one else but me. Even before he was trained, he was searching for ways to be useful to me. I had another dog at the time that I was training as a pet. I already knew that little Jack Russel mix wasn't my dog after all, and I knew who belonged to him, but she needed a couple of weeks to get her house ready and get her daughter off to college.
Itzl watched everything I taught Rafferty, and mimicked as best he could. Three days after I got Itzl, he alerted on my name. Someone had come into the back yard, where I was working with Rafferty and called to me. Rafferty didn't respond, but Itzl did. He immediately ran over to me, brushed up against my leg, and pointed at the gate where the visitor stood. He repeated that until I looked where he wanted me to look. I praised him, and he fell in beside me as I walked to unlock the gate, heeling as if he'd been there all his life.
Every time that day that I ignored a sound, he would alert and point. Some of the sounds I could hear and dismissed, but some were out of my range and his alert let me know they were there.
That's when I began his formal training. Six months later, he was my fully trained hearing partner, the one I'd been searching for for nearly 10 years, ever since I learned my hearing loss was progressive and irreversible.
We've been partnered 6 years now. The average working life of a service dog is about 8-10 years. Then they get retired, often returning as a pet to the family that first raised them, sometimes returning to the program that trained him, and sometimes, staying on to help train their replacement. Like people, dogs also get hurt or sick, and have to be retired much younger than that. They go blind, or deaf, or develope knee or hip problems. Sometimes, they die too soon.
It's never easy when a service dog has to retire, through age, injury, or illness. The animal wants to keep working. They don't understand "retirement", and they feel lost and bewildered when their partner leaves them behind. It's worse when the service animal is sick or too frail to do their job anymore and still tries. They take the silent vows of "tell death do us part" very seriously. And for their handler, their team mate, it's just as heartbreaking. They've relied on this animal for their independence and freedom for years, and now, just as they are comfortable and know one another so very well, their service partner just can't perform anymore.
Not too long ago, I got a small sample of what it might be like if I were to lose Itzl before we were ready. A car ran a traffic light and hit us, setting off the airbags in our car and totalling it. One of the airbags hit Itzl's car seat and smacked him really hard - a danger I never expected because I'd measured the maximum distance the car manufacturer said the airbags would deploy to and set the seat back far enough it shouldn't have hit his car seat. But it did. Itzl suffered a severe concussion and a ruptured ear drum. He spent 3 days in ICU and I feared his time as a signal dog was over, and with it, our constant companionship and my freedom. When he was released from ICU, I took him to a canine audiologist and had his hearing tested. With careful treatment, Itzl recovered his full hearing and was able to return to being a signal dog.
During those weeks, as he healed, I had to face being unpartnered. And so did he. He wasn't allowed to accompany me while his ear had this huge hole in it, in case he caught an infection. It broke his heart for me to leave without him. When I'd come home, he'd glue himself to my side and work extra hard to alert to every sound, convinced that the reason I was leaving him behind was because he was doing a bad job. He's very proud of the work he does and determined to do it well.
As a Chihuahua, he will live longer than many larger dogs. As a signal dog, his tasks are physically easier than if he were a mobility dog. It's possible that he could be an active partner for as long as 12 years, and that's what I'm hoping for, for his sake as well as mine. He's convinced we're meant to be together forever, and he'll die trying to make that happen.
I intend to do all in my power to make sure his life is as long and healthy as I can manage. When you are partnered with a service dog, you're partnered for life.