Imagine a partner willing to accompany you wherever you went ... someone who would actually enjoy bringing you a ringing phone, picking up dropped car keys ... someone you felt safe with when you ventured out ... who could even assist with your balance. A faithful partner ready and willing to help, 24 hours a day, with never a complaint. As my limb-girdle muscular dystrophy progressed, I became very interested in finding such a four-footed partner.

I'd read about people who trained their own canine assistants, usually dogs they adopted from shelters, and I liked the idea of rescuing a dog. While writing articles about service dog providers for the last couple of years, I read many books and training manuals, interviewed numerous authorities, and spent time with both trainers and recipients of service dogs. I absorbed all the information I could, but nothing would prepare me for the actual experience.

About three years ago, I began looking for potential adoptees at our local animal shelters, but none seemed to fit the bill. Knowing that the average wait for a trained dog is two to three years, I also applied with Canine Assistants, just outside of Atlanta, an agency that trains dogs and owners, in case I didn't find a dog on my own.

SAVING CHRISTMAS

In spring 1998, I learned about a dog who'd been a Christmas gift for a youngster almost three years earlier and was called Christmas. A mix of golden retriever and yellow Labrador retriever, she soon grew into a 70-pound bundle of energy needing more room to romp than the owner's small apartment offered. By the time we met, she'd lived in two additional homes and her reputation wasn't the best. Her last owner had kept her on a short chain attached to a tree because she wouldn't stop digging up the neighbor's garden. At 21/2, she was about the age when most dogs become canine assistants. It sounded promising.

Anxious and excited, my husband, son and I piled into our van and headed to a nearby park to meet Christmas. I spotted her right away. Attached to a leash, she was dragging a woman behind her as they made their way through the small park. I didn't say anything but I could read my husband's eyes as they met mine. With trepidation, we pulled into a parking spot and made our way toward the spectacle.

Christmas was everything I required in a dog physically, and beautiful to boot. Although thin, she was obviously strong, making assistance with transfers and balance a good possibility. She was spayed and in good health, with a short coat for easy maintenance. We discussed her high energy, which I equated with her needing a job to do. My hope was that she'd transfer her mischievous behavior and energy into concentrating on performing a service.

She lay down on the grass and allowed me to gently turn her onto her back, a sign of passiveness. The final test was to hold her muzzle. Would she let me do this or, as aggressive dogs do, would she turn away? She stared with big brown eyes and never flinched. My husband, Michael, did the same, bringing his nose to hers.

"Are you a good dog, Christmas?" he asked. She raised her paw in response, wanting to shake. Sold! Our earlier impression disappeared in an instant.

CHRISTMAS CELEBRATES EASTER

Our "honeymoon period" turned out to be a mighty short one. The following evening, it was I who needed rescuing while Chris, as we called her, was doing just fine. It was the night before Easter Sunday and, having tucked our son into bed, Michael and I were hiding candy-filled plastic Easter eggs in the back yard.

"Why don't we have Chris join us for the walk through our woods?" I thought out loud. "Should we leash her? Will she run off?" Michael countered. "Naaaa ... it's 9 o'clock at night," I answered, "and besides, none of our dogs have ever run off."

Chris not only ran off, she beelined it like a wild animal at full throttle through our one-acre woods. Panic set in as I called for her as loudly as I could. The next two hours were a comedy of disaster as I chased her up and down our steep street on my three-wheeled power scooter, calling her name, while Michael jogged behind us, calling out my name.

When Chris had finally finished her run, she appeared in our driveway and amiably followed me inside. After drinking two big bowls of water she collapsed on the cool kitchen linoleum, happy as a lark, while I quietly crept into our dark bedroom. As I sneaked into bed, Michael whispered, "At least you've bonded."

A WALK IN THE PARK

The next day a friend called and wanted to get together at Centennial Park in downtown Nashville so our dogs could meet. Pam was bringing along her 2-year-old granddaughter and Astro, a golden retriever she'd recently obtained through Canine Assistants. My son, Lee, Chris and I arrived first.

Chris has learned to walk beside the author's scooter on a double lead.

Settled on my freshly charged scooter, I took Chris' leash and not a second too soon. She leaped from my van, and the scooter tilted on one wheel as I rose into the air hanging onto the leash with my left hand and the van with the right. Once all wheels were back on the ground, we proceeded forward as curious picnickers looked on.

"We're in training," I said politely, explaining away my embarrassment as Chris pulled me along. I gave Chris her first lesson of "sit-stay" while we waited for Pam. Chris seemed familiar with the command but reluctant to follow it with all the distractions a busy park has to offer.

As I concentrated on Chris, Pam approached us from behind and Chris instantly lunged at Astro, about 20 feet away. There was no way on God's good earth I was going to let go of her leash. I held on with all my might yelling, "Chris, NO!," and then my scooter tipped over.

Still holding on, I was pulled off the seat -- now resting sideways on the grass -- and dragged behind "my" dog until she reached Astro, with her tail a-waggin'. Now I knew the definition of embarrassment. My face took the brunt of the fall, glasses broken, my nose and cheek scraped from the grass burns. Yeow!

Pam sat atop her scooter not knowing what to do, and a totally reserved Astro wondered what had just happened. Strangers raised my scooter and helped me get back up.

"Hey, Mom," Lee said, "at least you didn't let go!" His words became our anthem.

FORGING A PARTNERSHIP

Next, I declared Chris to be my sole responsibility, as she should be. I would tend to her needs entirely.

At dog training centers, it's emphasized that the person to be assisted is the only one who should feed the dog or give commands. Providers argue that this is critical for the dog's lasting bond and devotion to you and you alone. I found this an impossible task in my household, yet Chris needed to realize two things -- that I was the boss and that her job was to assist me.

Though she flunked service dog training, Chris is a beloved family pet.

Chris gradually found comfort and trust in me because I was the one who bathed, groomed and fed her. Most important, I walked her an hour each day for a month after her arrival. She followed me everywhere in the house or, when at rest, quickly learned to respond to my call. (Outside the house it was a different matter.)

Though Chris was learning that I was her partner, she wasn't ready to be taken into every situation nor did I want her to go everywhere with me, such as when I taught in schools. At times when I wasn't home, another family member had to assist with Chris. I placed Post-It notes with commands at the back door for those instances when she needed to go outside.

Our rule was that if Chris didn't obey the "sit-stay" command, for example, the back door didn't open. The same was true when she was about to exit my van. If she wasn't sitting in the midsection correctly (front paws not hanging over the back of the bench seat), I wouldn't open her door. It's a simple and effective method. Another option I use for long trips is to strap her into a doggie seat belt.

While most dog training books and programs provide basic knowledge about canine behavior, a service dog provider or a resource like the Delta Society can provide the specifics for training your dog as a canine assistant -- a big difference. As a rule of thumb, expect your dog to take a good six months just learning basic obedience commands. You can expect another six months or more for your dog to acquire specialized tasks such as picking things up, retrieving selected items or opening doors -- assuming you work with your dog on a daily basis.

Chris was learning. But we had a long way to go before she'd really be a service animal.