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Life with Borias

I was on the news!

Well, all I know is that I got to have a great time pulling mom in her wheelchair, while a news crew followed us with a camera! I love Balboa Park, and it's a blast to run all the way to the fountain. Sometimes I get to take a dunk! Mom let me this time, to cool off, but some bad stuff must have been put in the water. I got all itchy, and had to get a bath :( My throat got burned or something, cuz it hurt to bark for awhile. And I looove to bark!! Now my mom is all worried about me.

It was cool watching myself on the news, though! I can go faaaast!!
Catch the post about me in the dog blog here at Dogter!

...Just don't insult my dog-ADA access trial

Go ahead and insult me, just don't insult my dog! I love that line in the movie Hidalgo, though Viggo Mortensen's character is speaking of his horse, the sentiment is the same. I tend to take it personally when my dog is insulted. I had to endure this over and over last week, while going through my first ADA lawsuit. A lawsuit that I felt compelled to enter into, with the worst altercation I have ever experienced with a business owner. Unfortunately, I went in quite naive.

Two years ago, I went into the Longboarder Cafe to get a bite of food to go. I had just shaken off nearly being mowed over by a jacked up truck driven by a Marine, by walking my dog down by the beach. I'd never been in there before, and thought the surfer motif was cool. I was in for a rude awakening. Literally.
While my dog lay beside me as I figured out what I wanted to order, trying to small talk with the two young waitresses up front, telling them about that new flattening by that driver, a woman suddenly appeared and gave my dog a disapproving look. "You know there's no dogs allowed in here" she whispered to the waitresses, as if I wasn't there. "He's my Service dog", I informed her. She turned to me and said "oh yeah? Then where's his yellow vest?" In a scoffing tone. Taken aback by her tone, I figured perhaps she had the idea that a legit Service dog is a flubsy Golden Retriever from Canine Companions for Independence. I told her it was a blue vest, and it was in the wash. By law, a Service dog is not required to wear a vest. Obviously it helps, and it signals to others that the dog is a working dog. But there are occasions where it's just not convenient to dress the dog, like going into a place of business for a few minutes.

"Well then,where's his papers!?" she asked next, walking from behind the counter, to about three feet from my face, holding her hand out. I thought I'd try to diffuse the situation through a bit of wry humor..."what do you mean? His AKC papers?" Bad idea. It pissed her off more. "What school did he go to?" Obviously she saw me as an impostor, trying to put one over on her. I held my ground and told her that he was raised and trained by myself, as was my choice. I decided to see if I could find my ADA law card, which explained the federal law. I looked up at the waitresses and whispered "Is she always such a bitch?" I genuinely wondered, thinking poor girls had to work for such a nasty manager.
Then a young man said that it was his mom, and owner of the restaurant. Oh. I muttered that I was sorry. Sorry that I said it, and sorry that she truly did seem to fit the bill. Sorry that nobody seemed to want to be on my side. "And her husband is a cop, so I think she knows the law" he added.
One would think, right?

Couldn't find the law card. The proprietor suddenly started ranting about my dog licking her floor. I looked down, and saw that Borias was licking his paw, which he does sometimes. He was laying down, so maybe from a standing person's vantage, it did look like he was licking the floor, I don't know. But he wasn't, so I said to look closer. She screamed "make him stop!!" and that she was calling the police, and wanted me out of there NOW! That's when I informed her that she was asking illegal questions, violating my rights, and it was something I could sue over, and she would have to pay a penalty. She said fine, she was insured, go right ahead. Good grief, there was just no reasoning with this woman. I'm already a self conscious enough type, and there was an older gentleman dining fairly close to us there. I didn't want to continue arguing with this unreasonable person. I asked to have her name put down on their business card, so that I could leave, and decide what to do. They were even resistant about that.

There was a news article published about it at the time, that can be read at http://ww.uniontrib.com/uniontrib/20061007/news_1mc7dogaid.h tml

In hindsight, I should have waited for the police, and even tried to get a witness on my side. Though this was my own personal business, and it would feel strange to bother someone for that. I ended up filing a police report, and got a referral to an attorney. I felt so humiliated by this. Little did I know that it would take two long years to bring it to completion. The proprietor was definitely up for a fight, and never offered to settle. We had a mediation, that was never completed when they said they had a witness. He turned out to be the diner sitting nearby, the one I was worried about disturbing. His deposition fully supported our side, though, with his reaffirming that I was told to leave because I had a dog, and pets are not allowed in a restaurant. After several postponements, due to a medical issue I'm dealing with, the trial was finally set for May 12. The jury request waived at the last minute, which my attorney felt was great for us.

The other side had three lawyers, and four witnesses, including her "son", who turned out to be her nephew, and the two waitresses. I found it ironic that this place named for surf culture, with a surfer motif, had such a mean-spirited, nasty proprietor. She had designer purse and shades, and poofed her lips out, putting on airs. What a crock. Definitely not what one would expect from someone who owned a surfer joint. I listened horrified, as every one of them lied through their teeth about what happened. They said that I was upset about being nearly hit just then (when it was 20 minutes before), and that my dog was "filthy, black with dirt, and mangy". Oh, and he smelled bad, too. Could they paint a worse picture? Apparently so. They went on to describe how he was out of control, wandering around, sniffing tables. Yet nobody could recall if he was on leash. They said he was slobbering on the floor, and the owner nearly slipped and fell on this huge pile of saliva. Unless you wave filet mignon in front of his face, my dog just doesn't drool. I sincerely doubt that licking his paw for a few seconds would cause any kind of large body of liquid on the floor. This was an outrage.

The defense tried to make it look like I "certified" my dog a month after the incident. That was a renewal of his license, and I had gotten state of CA Assistance dog tags in 2004, two years before the incident. I testified that he was trained by myself since puppyhood, that I was competent in dog training, and that my dog had a Canine Good Citizen, and a Companion Dog obedience title. I told the whole truth and nothing but the truth, as one is sworn to do. They showed pictures of other Service dogs who were allowed there, and testified how they had no problems with them. That everyone was allowed at their restaurant. I watched in disbelief as this woman pointed to the table she claimed my dog sniffed at, which was the one that the older gentleman witness was sitting at! She said that she had gone in the back, where she had a party of 30, while I tried to find the requested paperwork. That's when she was informed that I was up front, "ranting and raving" and pitching a fit. That I had called her a bitch. Twice. So she then decided that she was going to refuse service to me, and ask me to leave. And here's the kicker...it had nothing to do with the dog! Never mind that the whole testimony revolved around how horrible this beast was at the end of the leash. They had no choice because I had suddenly turned into some raving lunatic, simply because I was asked nicely to produce paperwork on him.

I had a gnawing in the pit of my stomach as we broke for a two hour recess, to await the final witness, this 70 year old theater critic, the diner eating a burger near my dog. My counsel has assured me that he was great for our case, since his deposition stated several times very clearly that I was told to leave because of my dog. We were on the second day, and the trial was going much longer than anticipated. I really began to worry about not having any witnesses, but was told that character witnesses didn't count. I was thinking it certainly couldn't hurt at this point! I hoped the fact that my trusty dog lay beneath the desk we were seated at for all those long boring hours, never moving. He only once let out an exasperated harrumph when we broke for that recess, everyone laughed, and for one brief moment, the tension was lifted.

This last witness was put on the stand, as our hostile witness. I was told he was key to our proving our case, by what he said in his deposition. He was obviously an intelligent man, dry humor. A writer and theater critic. Appealing qualities to me, to be sure. He at least somewhat vindicated my dog's good name, when he said he didn't recall him smelling or looking bad, or sniffing at tables. He was laying down. Though he did say that he kind of remembered someone nearly slipping. But when my attorney asked about my being asked to leave because of my dog, he paused, and said that he now believed his deposition was inaccurate, and that I was asked to leave because I was causing a disturbance. To use slang, I was "causing a scene".

I could see my attorney's face turn red. This was obviously very bad for us. My stomach churned when I heard the guy say that he was saying all this, because he "wanted to see justice served". Did he really remember it this way? Was he not listening until things started to get more heated with the proprietor? Did he not hear the woman's condescending demands?? Perhaps it's because he still felt that I was in the wrong, having a pet dog there. In his day, a dog that helped the blind was most decidedly certified. He made a big point of that, as if society was better then. My attorney tried in vain to get him to admit it was the dog that was the issue. It just seemed to irritate him, the defense, and alas, the judge. My attorney believes that this witness comes from an era where there were no disability rights. He said "They built a ramp..." implying that this restaurant obviously was bending over backwards to accommodate us.

I felt I had one last chance to shine, when I was put back up on the stand. To my dismay, my attorney just asked me things he did in the beginning, things we had gone over. I was there all of five minutes, and my chance was gone. I felt like blurting out how they were lying, that I was only defending myself, and my dog. But you can't, that's not the way the game is played. I suppose the damage had been done already anyway, and the proverbial feather was tipped in the defense's favor.

The judge didn't even take a recess to mull things over. Though he assured us that he had thought about it last night, and during our breaks. He said that we did not show burden of proof, and ruled in favor of the defense. I was heartbroken, and in shock. It wasn't so much about the money, (my attorney only asked for the 4K penalty assessment, and a 5K punitive damages), though I was looking forward to getting my dog help for his ongoing back problem.OK, and I really, really wanted this new all terrain wheelchair, that would allow me to go on the sand at the beach, something I've longed to do since I could walk on crutches as a kid. But it was really about the principle of the thing. Justice was not served. They committed perjury and got away with it. They had an advocate in this witness, who was so motivated to see they win, that justice would be served, he changed his testimony in order for that to happen. How ugly. Justice??
...if only he really knew.

I went downstairs, and looked up on the wall to see the words "Liberty and Justice for All". Evidently not. Naive of me, perhaps. I walked back to my car, with my dog giddy with happiness to be out of that boring courthouse and into the fresh downtown air, bouncing around trying to make me laugh. I found a ticket on my car, saying that I parked outside the stall. I looked at the other side, to find I was about 4 inches on the white line. We got in, turned up the radio, which happened to be playing one of my favorite bands, Pearl Jam. I took Borias to Mission Bay, and we went for a run at one of his favorite spots. Trying to shake off the ugliness that happened those two days.

I thank God for my dog. He is my heart. He keeps me sane in an all too hostile world. I'm not sure what to do from here. I feel so violated. My attorney won't appeal, and nobody else will for me, as this was a factual decision by the judge. I wish I could get the word out to people in the community...to other Service dog owners, and to surfers, to boycott this restaurant. Until or unless they give me...and my dog, a public apology. That's all I want. Justice

My Heart Dog

I'd like to introduce my Service dog, and Heart dog. Borias von Herzensfreude. Which loosely translates to "Heart's Joy" in German. Apropos, I must say, as this dog is very much my heart's joy. A "heart dog" is a once in a lifetime, very special dog, that you feel so close to, that it's as if you are soulmates. Our relationship is truly a special one.


I first held Borias in my arms seven years ago, when he was just one month on this earth. I had recently suffered a traumatic loss of my prior dog, who had died suddenly from a heart attack. Though he was a great dog, he never was the best Service dog material, so I didn't have him in public with me that much. So I really wanted this new dog to be the right stuff so to speak, and train him to be my Service dog. I decided to change breeds, and get a German Shepherd, since I had them as a kid. It took a tremendous amount of digging and research, and I was even growing discouraged at finding the right pup, when I just happened to find a crumpled piece of paper on the floor of my car, with some phone numbers of breeders. There was one I hadn't crossed off, so I called, and left a message.

Fate took over, as I later learned that this team from the FBI were doing extensive tests on the litter, to find a cadaver search and rescue dog. There were only two males in the litter (I prefer males), and the other was spoken for. They said that this largest boy was really good Service dog material. That delighted his breeder, who had a huge desire for one of her pups to go on to do that kind of work. He was a mellow, laid back pup, who took everything in stride. I knew right away that this was meant to be, and was quite excited that I had found what I was looking for. But nothing compared to when I held that fat bundle of fuzz in my arms. It healed my heart.

Since coming home at eight weeks old, Borias has been by my side every hour of every day. It's as if he is my other half. He never even experienced one bit of separation anxiety over leaving his mother and littermates, and bonded to me right away. I took him everywhere, and to my delight, he took to being in public like he was born to do this job. At restaurants, he would go under the table and snooze, with no prompting or training from me. He has always been extremely attentive, and would even walk along with me without a leash, like my little shadow.
I started training him to retrieve that first week, using clicker training, and it was remarkable how quickly he learned. And incredibly intelligent fellow, he was picking up things I dropped at just three months old! And so proud of himself, too. He adores running along, towing my wheelchair at great speeds, which I must say, is an exhilarating experience!

I've learned so much about training, and about myself even, through this dog. I've grown in so many ways. He's given me not only independence, but more self-confidence, too. He's a continual example of how to live life, with his ever-happy attitude, and playful nature. He loves living life, and everyone comments on what a happy guy he is. We have achieved goals that I have never been able to with prior dogs, like getting our first obedience title, the Companion Dog title in AKC. We took a class to do therapy work together, and he passed with flying colors, so now he can give back to others, too. He's a very special boy, and spreads happiness and joy wherever we go together. Words can't even begin to express what Borias means to me. He is my heart.
My heart dog.