The newly emerging Vested Dog Club is invalidating Persilly again. The emotional support I gain from her is shuffling off to join my engineering confusions. Ain't got the paperwork. It is legally incorrect to call ^it^ That and . . . Yes Ma'am/Sir. Suffle, shuffle, off to the margins once more. The Law is on your side. Permission to be excused, Ma'am/Sir.
Again, my veteran status has more sides to the story. The active use of dogs in therapy is far older than the 1990 ADA. I was on the fringe of the network which was dreaming of respect for the value of therapy dogs while the verbage for the ADA was still being nailed down in Cogress. My antiquated verbage gets me into ALLOT of trouble when speaking with legally empowered newcomers.
Back in the bad old days when travelling with a dog was as akward as travelling with an elephant, people who leaned on therapy dogs found one another as naturally and embracingly as any other portion of my peer support network. The first people to use vests to signal this specialized role for dogs were very much part of that network. I was strongly encouraged to register my last 3 dogs for vests. I declined because of my dislike for drawing attention to myself. I have come a long way in my people phobias, but I still panic at being the center of attention.
I am still far from certain what I am observing, but I believe the Vested Dog Club is a new breed. I believe the mistake I am making is confusing them with the old-timers. Whatever the evers of the what, I am learning to steer wide berth around Vested Dog owners, especially when I am in crisis. Having my most trusted therapy supporter invalidated when I need her the most hurts like a father fuck.
Please, give me a politically correct name for ^it^.
I slept well last night with the clarity of continuing the DIY plan on the debris removal. Appetite good. Persilly approves.