Ivy

Brenda-Ann and Ivy

Trust and Obey
By Brenda-Ann Gillis

For more than twelve years I have been blessed with a sneaker with wings. My guide dog, Ivy. She has made possible the impossible in my life while teaching me the true value of love and trust. It was at embassy Suites when Ivy taught me trust. Being late for my first meeting, I dumped my belongings in my room, cared for Ivy's needs and proceeded to get stuck in the longest Board meeting ever. When it was over we got on an elevator and everyone called out floor numbers. It was then I realized that I had no idea what my room number was. So, not wanting to be an embarrassed blind smoker, I confidently called out "seven please" - the smoking floor in this hotel. Soon it was just me and Ivy on the elevator. Several floors later, the door opened and off we went. Embassy Suites are pretty much the same - rooms in an ovular configuration around an open atrium. Remembering not the room number, but the approximate locale of the room on the arc, I was convinced that Ivy and her wonderful nose and excellent patterning skills would simply stop at the appropriate room, as she had done in the past. I boldly gave Ivy the command to proceed, letting her know it was in her capable paws. We walked around, and around, and around. Ivy didn't stop at any of the rooms; instead she just kept pausing at the elevators. Stupid human that I am, I firmly stated to "Find the room." Once more we went around, and around, and around with only the briefest pause at the elevator doors. Just when I was beginning to grow frustrated with my dependable, never fails Ivy girl, a man came up behind me and asked if there was a problem. He explained that he was hotel security and had been watching us circle the floor from below and thought he would come see if he could help. I told him the situation and apologized that my guide dog was not up to speed. The guard looked at my room key envelope and started laughing. "Ma'me, now that's the best dog I've ever seen! Why don't you trust her?" Puzzled I replied, "I do trust her." He asked, "Then why aren't you listening to her?" "What do you mean?" I inquired. He stooped down, patted Ivy and said, "Okay, black beauty why don't you take your Mom up to the seventh floor and show her where her room is because we both know she isn't going to find it here on the sixth floor -- now is she?" Ivy, grinning, with her tail held high and wagging, took me back to the elevator. With my tail between my legs, she proudly guided me off the elevator and directly to my room. My sneaker with wings is now retired, but my love and trust in her will endure forever.