Category: Duty Issue

A service dog can bring someone back from the deepest darkest places

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

Interview with a Wounded Warrior
Published in the DUTY issue

Will + Jack Daniels

Will dropped 30 feet, breaking his neck and both legs.

As you can imagine, he also hit his head, which resulted in a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI). After 26 years in the navy, Will was injured on board the carrier USS Enterprise when a storm hit the ship as it was docked in Norfolk. He was crossing the brow as the ship pushed away from the pier when the brow collapsed. His right leg was crushed. After 20-some surgeries and four years later, he was still in constant pain and his mobility was severely limited—Will made the decision to have his leg amputated after watching the paralympics. He’d always been athletic and couldn’t play sports with his leg as it was. Will believes having his leg amputated was one of the best decisions he’s ever made, as it has opened up so many doors and let him re-engage in sports. But he is still left with both visible and invisible wounds.

Two years ago, Will was in Kentucky helping a farmer harvest tobacco to return a favor. On his way to the farm, he noticed a house with three German Shepherds in the yard. Will stopped in to meet them. “Jack was the first to come up and put his hands on my shoulders and lick me in the face.” Jack had been rescued from a situation where he was in a crate almost all day. Will asked the couple who rescued him if they minded if Jack rode to the farm with him. Will and Jack rode back and forth to the farm together for two weeks. After the two weeks, Will got the nerve to ask if Jack could spend the night. They said, absolutely! So Will and Jack watched movies together and hung out in Will’s RV. “He laid his head on my shoulder and that was it. We were bound at the heart from that point.”

Will adopted Jack and back home to Memphis the boys went together! During the time Jack was being trained at West Tennessee Canine to be a PTSD dog, his trainer found out that he also has the innate ability to alert to emotional situations. “Just today, we were in the gym and, although Jack was paying attention to me, he kept alerting to Paul, a fellow wounded warrior. He’d lift his head and just stare at Paul. He was saying, Dad … there’s something wrong with that guy. So, I took Jack over, and we found out he was having a bad day. Jack laid down next to Paul, put his head on his shoulder, and licked Paul’s face. Jack could sense the difference in emotion, and knew exactly what Paul needed.”

What does Jack mean to you?
Will became emotional and unable to speak for several moments when asked this question. “Jack means the difference between staying alive and not. He’s given me so much more than I’ve given him. He’s given me a reason to get up in the morning. He inspires me to get out and re-integrate into society. He’s become a permanent fixture in my heart. There’s no doubt about it—he saved my life.
Jack is with me 24/7. I feel like I’m not fully dressed if I don’t have him beside me. The psychological support and the friendship that he offers is incredibly satisfying. And to know he will take care of me and love me unconditionally is comforting.”

What do you wish people knew?
“I wish people knew how much service dogs mean to their owners—how in the darkest of times a service dog can convey love that can bring them back from the deepest darkest places. People need to know that a service dog isn’t a dog … but an extension of that human being’s persona. Service dog fraud upsets me. People who order a ten-dollar vest online just so they can take their dog with them places invalidates the reason behind the program.”

When are you most proud of Jack?
“Every day of my life. Just to see his calming nature and to see what he can do for myself and others—he came from being a farm dog to an instrument in saving lives.”

When are you most proud of yourself?
Will struggled to try and talk through strong emotion, “Every day that I can wake up and realize that I came close several times to not being here, and realizing that I’m far stronger than I gave myself credit. Each day that we face a new day, we get stronger and are better because of it. I can’t let my injury define me. I may have to put parts on in the morning, but I’m still the same guy they rolled into the ER. It’s not how hard you fall … it’s what you do when you stand back up that makes a difference. •

If you’d like to volunteer your time locally in training a puppy for a Wounded Warrior, please contact K9 for Warriors—they’re looking for puppy-raisers! Please share these stories to educate those around you about the different needs a service dog may provide for visible or invisible wounds.

 

Hü Poupe’d

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

By Anonymous / Originally published in Unleash Jacksonville, DUTY issue

*Not the actual culprit in THIS story

We’ve recently started using this adorable little french phrase in our home—Hü Poupe´d. I don’t expect you to be able to pronounce it—it’s rathar fancy-pants—but, roughly, it translates to “who pooped” in English. I personally like to say it three times in a row, while looking at my suspects directly into their eyeballs. Surprisingly enough, in our house, the one who doesn’t look away is most often the one hü poupe´d (he’s a brazen boydog and uses the “But I’m Paralyzed” card every. single. time.)

We don’t really need to ask this question. It’s always that same guy. We ask it, hoping for some sign of remorse, as he will stare back at me—through me really—as if to say, Yah I did it and it was awesome. And guess what? In about three hours … gonna do it again. {shrug} Let me know if you wanna watch.

So … I mean … I’m not sure if you’ve ever allowed anyone to go number two in your home consistently and repeatedly, but if not, I’ll give you an insider’s perspective—it makes you feel downright disgusting. It makes you want to wash your feet sixteen times a day, that’s for sure, and it makes you not want to have anyone over for a decent lasagna dinner.

During a recent storm, I was looking for one of our pups who tends to be frightened, and I took a little look-see under my bed. That’s when life changed forever. I did find him there, curled up in his safe zone …. but I also found something else—well, let’s see … imagine the biggest turd you can think of. Go ahead and multiply it by two and add six. It was massive, it was impressive. Huh. I wonder how long that’s been there, I whispered out loud to no one. And then, crouched there, gazing under my bed at the silhouette of a massive turd … I wondered how I got here. Not knowing how long a turd has been under my bed?! That’s ludacris. I’ve always known how long turds have been under my bed. When did this happen to me and is this how it’s just going to be from now on? How did I not smell it and am I still a good person? (It feels really good to talk about all this—my stinky little secret. Go ahead—tell all your perfect friends that Anonymous is absolutely hideous.)

Since starting to care for this dog who can’t help but accept—nay, be proud of—what he can’t control, I’m begrudgingly learning the same. Ugh, life lessons are so dumb sometimes. I don’t like it. But I do like him. As part of our System of Containment, there is a garbage bag-sized bag of dog poop on my front porch. You do what you gotta do. What of it? Keeps the peeping Toms from staying to long.

I’ve come to realize the answer to my questions, following the discovery of MegaTurd (except how did I not smell it). This has happened to me because, as much as I may want to just take off in a jet plane some days, I’m not a deserter (However, I am a desserter, by the by. Anything warm and chocolate-y.) I love my dogs through thick and thin; barf piles and endless mounds of poo-nami; even old age, I know that’s a crazy notion for some. So, accepting what I cannot immediately change, I better invest in a good steamer and, yah. I do think I’ll check under the bed more often. •

Hü Poupe´d

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

by Anonymous

We’ve recently started using this adorable little french phrase in our home, Hü Poupe´d. I don’t expect you to be able to pronounce it—it’s ratha fancy-pants—but, roughly, it translates to “who pooped?” in English. I personally like to say it three times in a row, while looking at my suspects directly into their eyeballs. Surprisingly enough, in our house, the one who doesn’t look away is most often the one hü poupe´d (he’s a brazen bastard and uses the “But I’m paralyzed” card every. single. time.)

We don’t really need to ask this question. It’s always that same guy. We ask it, hoping for some sign of remorse, as he will stare back at me—through me really—as if to say, Yah, I did it and it was awesome. And guess what? In about three hours … gonna do it again. {shrug} Let me know if you wanna watch.

So … I mean … I’m not sure if you’ve ever allowed anyone to go number two in your home consistently, but if not, I’ll give you an insider’s perspective—it makes you feel downright disgusting. It makes you want to wash your feet sixteen times a day, that’s for sure, and it makes you not want to have Pastor Pat over for a nice lasagne dinner. {And diapers aren’t really a great option, for those of you with that suggestion.}

During a recent storm, I was looking for one of our pups who tends to be frightened, and I took a little look-see under my bed. That’s when life changed forever. I did find him there, curled up in his safe zone. Right next to a—well, let’s see—imagine the biggest turd you can think of. Go ahead and multiply it by two and add six. It was massive, it was impressive. Huh. I wonder how long that’s been there, I whispered out loud to no one. And then, crouched there, gazing under my bed at the silhouette of a massive turd … I wondered how I got here. Not knowing how long this thing has been under my bed?! That’s ludicrous. I’ve always known how long turds have been under my bed. When did this happen to me and is this how it’s just going to be from now on? How did I not smell it and am I still a good person? (It feels really good to talk about all this—my stinky little secret. Go ahead—tell all your perfect friends that Anonymous is absolutely hideous.)

Since starting to care for this dog who can’t help but accept—nay be proud of—what he can’t control, I’m begrudgingly learning the same. Ugh, life lessons are so dumb sometimes. I don’t like it. But I do like him. As part of our System of Containment, there is a garbage-bag-sized bag of dog poop on my front porch. You do what you gotta do. What of it? It keeps the peeping Toms from staying to long. (shrug)

I’ve come to realize the answer to my questions, following the discovery of MegaTurd (except how did I not smell it). This has happened to me because, as much as I may want to just take off in a jet plane some days, I’m not a deserter. I love my dogs through thick and thin; barf piles and endless mounds of poo-nami; even old age, I know that’s a crazy notion for some—yup, ‘til the end. So, accepting what I cannot immediately change, rest assured, I’ll invest in a super steamer and, yah. I do think I’ll check under the bed more often, too. •

DUTY Thoughts, from George

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

Welcome to the DOODY issue. I’m just going to come out and say it. Yah. I’ve decided not to go outside for number two any more. I’m old and I’m tired. Outside is far and dirty and I just don’t see the point.

{Errrrm … George … this issue is DUTY, not DOODY. Please don’t talk about your bathroom habits.}

What? How did I not know this? I’m still the editor, am I correct?

{Sometimes you sleep through staff meetings, George.}

I’m feeling multiple layers of embarrassment here. Let’s talk about this off record later, shall we? I have an image of prestige to uphold. Please accept my apologies for the earlier bathroom talk; I feel I was misinformed.

Unfortunately, I don’t know a whole lot about DUTY. I’ve never been called up to do much in my life except clean up kitchen spills—which I’m more than happy to do, by the way, especially ice cream. I’m very able-bodied when it comes to licking the floor. Beyond that, up until now, I’ve just been a super-handsome half-man half-dog with no oppressive responsibilities—carefree and untethered. I could hop a plane to Minnesota right now if I wanted to. Ack, but that seems super far and cold—and now that Prince is gone (RIP Prince), what’s the point of going to Minnesota? So I just kinda chill and hang, you know?

It does sound appealing to be needed, though. Really needed, not fake needed, like when people tell you you’re the editor but really you’re just a poster boy. People don’t even take the time to make sure I understand the focus of the issue, for crumps sakes. To have a mission where I could really help someone—that sounds very fulfilling! I do have several questions about having a duty, though. One: What if, on a particular day I’d just rather sleep? Is that allowed? Two: What is the pay? I’m saving for a new laptop. Three: Is it okay that I don’t walk very well, hear very well, see very well, and I have accidents in the house quite often?

If someone could get back to me with those answers, we can get the paperwork started. I’ll start packing my manbag in the meantime. I so look forward to being appreciated.

auf Wiedersehen, (that’s German)
GEORGE

PS … if you end up wanting to read the DUTY issue (I can’t personally advise it in good conscious, as I haven’t even read it yet), you can find it online here. Physical copies will be available all over Jacksonville shortly. You can find out where here and maybe camp out, like a Black Friday sitch. Now … where is that toiletry bag …

COVER REVEAL

Posted on by Amy Olivieri

Meet our Unleash Jacksonville DUTY cover power team, Rob and Liberty Bell, and Rob’s wife, Carrie. They are a amazingly strong individuals working through every day as one.

“The night I got Liberty Bell I stuck a 45 in my mouth. I wanted a permanent solution. Now that I have Liberty in my life—the way she acts and responds to me—I no longer have that propensity.”

Robert is very passionate about invisible wound awareness. Over his 30-year Naval career, Robert suffered multiple TBIs (Traumatic Brain Injuries), and just by looks alone, you wouldn’t know Robert is a wounded warrior. Doctors haven’t been able to pinpoint exactly what’s causing his progressive debilitating symptoms, which adds to the frustration. “We didn’t do a great job in the ‘80s recognizing concussions and brain injuries, and there just isn’t enough awareness or funding for the 379,500+ service people who are now suffering. That has to change.”

Robert met Liberty Bell at a time when his symptoms started progressing and he was having seizures. His service dog, Gracie May, an amazing German Shepherd, was doing her final in-house training with What’s Up Dog Service Animal Training. Robert got to “borrow” a dog named Sasha (who was also being trained at What’s Up) while Gracie was away. During that time, Robert had three major seizures back to back. Sasha knew—she just instinctively knew. She immediately started taking care of Robert, nearly pushing his wife, Carrie, out of the way. Carrie was a little nervous, wondering what the dog was doing, but Sasha had the situation under control. She was trained for PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) and mobility assist, but she wasn’t trained for seizure response or detection. “Dogs either have the ability to detect seizures or they don’t. This isn’t a trainable task. Unfortunately, as awesome as she was, my Gracie didn’t have that capacity. And it’s what I came to need as my disability progressed. I didn’t want to re-assign Gracie. But I had to.” Carrie knew pretty much right away, “Sasha was perfect for Rob.”

Sasha became Liberty Bell.
“I re-named her Liberty Bell because she gave me liberty. She gave me confidence to go out and do new things. I did go out with Gracie, but always to the same places. With Liberty, I’m confident in new situations. Three years ago, I would’ve told you service dogs were bunk … just a way for people to take their pets out. But a dog who is trained to perform these specific tasks is actually an extension of that person—a prosthetic.”

There’s nowhere Liberty doesn’t go with Robert. “She sleeps in my bed. She goes to the shower, the bathroom, movies; she’s always on duty. While in Mayport for the trials, she even went on a Naval ship; up and down the ladders. They’d never had a dog on the ship!”

A passion to see people live free.
The Florida panhandle, where Carrie and Robert live, is home to the country’s most dense population of veterans with PTSD and TBIs. It’s also home to the second-highest populous of active duty military. “We have a lot of service dogs in our area.” Carrie and Robert have been working passionately in the last year to make it easier for service members to get the right dog. They work closely with the Pawsitive Love Foundation, which works to provide individuals and families the gift of freedom of access, independence, and the ability to live the most normal life possible. “Currently veterans can get a prescription for a dog and they have no idea how to “cash it in”. We’d like to see it get much easier.”

Educate so we can integrate.
Robert and Carrie also helped to pass the Pawsitive Love Bill—a pilot high school program that introduces students to service dogs, teaches them why we have service dogs, why they’re important, and how to act around them. “Our goal is to bring it to the elementary level. There is such a need to educate kids. There is a ton of service dogs coming, vets can’t stay locked in their houses, losing themselves. If we don’t train the next generation how to act around the dogs and their handlers, there will be plenty of situations that won’t be good. We need to set these veterans and their dogs up for success in society.”

Pawsitive Love Foundation
You can make a difference! Become an advocate for the simple freedom you enjoy every day. It takes funding to transport, house, train, support service dogs and their handlers. Share our mission with your friends! pawsitivelovefoundation.org