2 Feet, 4 Paws & 1 God

Feeling rather fragile today so really don't want to dig in to the emotional stuff right now. So how about I tell you a nice Abbot story?

 I remember one time when Abbot and I encountered two gentlemen blocking the pavement. They were deep in conversation and totally unaware of our presence. I asked Abbot to stand and said ‘Excuse me’ to the gentlemen. There was no response and they didn’t move. I tried again in the same polite way, but still got no response whatsoever. After a third, equally unsuccessful attempt Abbot put his head down, pushed his shoulders out and ploughed his way through them. When we were past them Abbot stopped and looked back. He fixed the two men with a very stern glare which started at their toes and worked its way up to their heads. Then suddenly Abbot threw his head up and gave
 his tail a flick as if to say, ‘You’re not worth bothering with’ and set off on his way again. As we’d been waiting for the men to move I’d been concocting some very rude things to say, but Abbot’s look had said all of those things and a whole lot more besides.
“Well done, son,”
I said. “I couldn’t have sa
id it better myself.”

Finally, there are the people who are quite openly rude. For example, once when Abbot and I were walking down the stairs to our local Metro station I said to Abbot ‘Tickets, son’, which is the command I use to get Abbot to take me to the ticket machine. A lady behind me immediately piped up:
“Look at that! The dog even buys his ticket.”

Another time, as Abbot and I were approaching the local library, a complete stranger suddenly accosted me...
“Excuse me,”
the lady said.
“You do know that’s a library, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I replied, aiming for a patient tone.

 “Then why are you, a blind man, going in there?” “Because the dog’s books are overdue,”
I replied.

That reminds me of my favourite guide dog joke. A man takes his guide dog to the cinema to see the latest Harry Potter film. All through, the dog leans forward, apparently glued to the screen. As the lights go up a woman sitting behind me leans over and says:
“Excuse me, but during the film I couldn’t help noticing how interested your dog was. Don’t you find that a little
the man says.
odd?” “Well, yes,”
“He didn’t like the book.”

I also have to mention that there is the occasional time when people go out of their way to stand up for me. I had only had Abbot a few weeks when we bumped into Maxi, who is a comedian and old friend, outside a gig. I couldn’t resist the temptation: I made Abbot sit and as Maxi passed by I put out my hand and said:

“Penny for a blind man, sir.” “Fuck off. You’ll only drink it,” Maxi said.
An old lady across the street heard this and didn’t realise that Maxi and I were old mates... so she started belting Maxi with her umbrella and berating him for the way he’d spoken to me.

Another time, Abbot managed to completely astonish some friends. A group of us had gone along to a concert at the Newcastle Opera House – to see Maxi and his comedian partner Mitch. I was the only sight impaired person in our party but I was also the only person who happened to know the way. We’d arranged to meet under the clock in Newcastle’s central railway station and made our way to the theatre from there. Abbot and I set off in the lead and I noticed that at every junction Abbot would stop and check that the rest of the party were still with us. Needless to say, this has endeared him greatly to the other members of our group.