These tips are to help new Handlers or want to be handlers (because they need it). List below.
Make Sure You Can Handle It (Like any pet, a service dog is a big responsibility. Be sure your family can handle the financial, emotional and physical responsibilities of having a service dog in your lives.)
Research the Agency Thoroughly ( Look into whether or not the agency you’re working with is a member of an organization such as Assistance Dogs International. In addition, look into the agency’s standing with the IRS and Better Business Bureau.)
Always Get Referrals ( Ask the agency if it can provide you with some of its existing customers for referrals. If it’s reluctant or unwilling to do so, it’s a sign that the agency isn’t all it claims to be.)
Ask About the Breed of Dog ( Dog breeds with calm, quiet personalities such as Labradors or retrievers {these are common breeds but GSD are service dogs too} tend to make the most successful service dogs. Ask the agency if it can provide you with information about the breed of dog.)
Remember That Dogs Will Attract Attention (Taking a service dog out in public almost certainly will draw a lot of attention from other people, so be prepared to answer questions about your service dog. Also, be aware that people will want to interact (this is a COMMON issue) with you and the dog)
Service Dogs Are Here to Work ( Having a service dog is NOT like having a regular pet. Service dogs are trained to help you with everyday tasks and provide support, so think carefully about whether or not a service dog would be right for your situation.)
These should be helpful and informative to those of you who have a disability and considering getting a service dog or training one yourself is optional instead of agency.
“Why are we here?” Winter asks, emboldened by the fact that his Hander hasn’t reprimanded him for asking numerous questions before.
“To get you clothing,” his Handler says, holding a shirt up to Winter’s chest. His Handler stares at him for a moment, making Winter want to fidget (he doesn’t), before shaking his head. “Not your colour.”
Winter nods, not sure what that means but not really caring either, and follows his Handler through the shop.
“You need new clothing, since your old stuff isn’t in the-the best shape, and my clothing doesn’t really fit you.”
Winter looks down at his shirt. It’s tight on him, enough that when his Handler saw him in it, his Handler’s eyes went wide and his face heated up to a bright pink, but it covers him. Winter likes the pressure of the shirt, too. It’s reassuring – comforting, even.
“Is there anything you want specifically? Like a style, or a colour, or…” his Handler falls silent, then gestures toward the entirety of the store, “Anything? I know there isn’t a-a wide selection, but the clothing’s good! It lasts.”
Winter nods, scanning the store. He’s already done a quick perimeter check, and looks over whoever enters the store when they enter, but it never hurts to be safe, especially with a Handler as new as his. It isn’t bad, his Handler’s newness to this. It’s actually nice, seeing as how his Handler hasn’t taken advantage of the power to punish him.
But danger comes with it as well, so Winter needs to compensate for the danger.
Winter looks back to his Handler, who stares up at him, and says, voice quiet, “I like blue.”
“Great!” His Handler smiles and starts to walk through the store, stopping occasionally to look through a rack. Winter follows him.
His Handler talks as they walk, saying, “I started coming here a year ago. One of my friends, Jan, pointed it out. She doesn’t need to shop here, she can go to the more expensive places, but she likes the people, and she pays a lot more than the owners ask for, so it all works out.”
“Where is she?”
“Jan? She’s at her parents’ home right now. It’s summer break, so everyone is home. Rhodey and Carol are still deployed, though, so technically they aren’t.”
“And you?”
His Handler’s face goes blank, making Winter’s heart slow. He spoke out of line, he shouldn’t have done, that, and now he’ll be punished and-
“I don’t stay with my parents. Not anymore.”
Winter stares at his Handler. Lips pinched, eyes oddly calm, and fingers tapping a beat into his hip, his Handler is uncomfortable. Winter says, “I… I’m sorry.”
“Hmm?” His Handler looks up to Winter, eyes wide, and shakes his head, “Oh, no. It’s fine. It’s… it’s all fine. Just family problems, you know? No, you wouldn’t, I… yeah.” His Handler sighs, looking back to the shirts, and says, “You’re quiet a lot more now, aren’t you? You asked a lot of questions when you first woke up, but now you stay pretty silent.”
“Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
Winter frowns at that, but says nothing against his Handler. His Handler smiles, fake brightness shining, and looks around himself. They start walking again, his Handler picking up shirts and pairs of pants.
Winter stays close, until his Handler holds out a pile of clothing and says, “Look these over. The owners don’t let you try stuff on here, but you can check it all, make sure they’re close to what you want, and-and all that.”
He nods, taking the clothing, and starts looking through it all. His Handler picked out good clothing. The shirts look like they’ll fit, and he can always fix them if they don’t. He looks up to his Handler and says, “They’re good.”
His Handler smiles. It’s unnerving, how much his Handler smiles. Not in a bad way, but a way he isn’t used to. His Handler does a lot of things he isn’t used to. He smiles, laughs, cooks, and talks. He talks a lot. Winter’s growing to like the talk, though. It means his Handler is fine.
“Alright?”
Winter blinks, then looks down to his feet. No. Oh no. He didn’t listen. He should have been listening, but no. He wasn’t. He was being stupid and useless and-
“Are you okay, Winter?” His Handler asks, reaching out but not quite touching Winter’s elbow.
He gives a jerky nod, not liking the worry in his Handler’s eyes. His Handler asks, “Do you want to leave? We can get the clothing another time.”
No. No. He can’t be more of a burden. He can’t make this Handler, the kind, smiling, laughing Handler, want to get rid of him. “I’m fine.”
His Handler raises a brow. “I can tell when someone’s freaking out. I do that enough myself to see it.”
“I’m fine.”
“Winter. It’s okay if you aren’t. I don’t know what got you half-dead and unconscious underneath a park bench, but I’d be freaking out afterwards too. I’ll go buy this stuff, mostly because you need clothing that isn’t bloody and torn, and you can go outside and get some air.”
Winter blinks quickly. He glances at the door, then at his Handler, then to the ground again. He doesn’t want to leave his Handler, so he says, “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Winter doesn’t know how to answer that. This is something that’s always been. He stays with the Handler when they’re in an unfamiliar, possibly threatening area, and only leaves in safe areas that he’s completed a perimeter on.
“Alright.” His Handler smiles again, reassuring and soft, “Come with me.”
Winter nods, exhaling in relief, and follows his Handler to the cash register. The woman there nods at them, takes the clothing, and starts to ring it up. Winter watches her, taking in the stooped posture, wrinkles around her eyes, and calloused hands. Not a threat.
His Handler glances up to him occasionally, offering a smile that makes the stone in Winter’s gut heavier and heavier with… he isn’t sure with what. The woman finishes ringing them up, slides the clothing into a bag, and hands it to his Handler, who takes it and says, “Thank you.”
The woman nods, looks at Winter, who doesn’t meet her gaze, and says, “Have a nice day.”
He nods, and his Handler says, “You too!”
The woman looks back to her work, and Winter follows his Handler from the store. The door rings as it shuts behind them, and Winter sucks in the fresh air. “Fresh” meaning “Not stale.”
His Handler nods, and says, “I get it. Sometimes there’s just too much, you know?”
He nods, and his Handler says, “You hungry? We can get food, if you want.”
“Sure,” Winter says, voice soft and scratchy. His Handler nods, and they walk down the street. Winter walks close to his Handler, hand brushing against his Handler’s elbow as they move. He puts some space between them, not wanting to annoy his Handler.
They pass several pairs and groups of people, who chat to each other, pausing in their talking to watch Winter and his Handler as they walk. Winter doesn’t mention the people, but his Handler looks up at Winter and asks, “Do people stare at you a lot?”
Winter furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”
“You know,” his Handler gestures toward Winter’s torso, face turning pink, “Cause you’re, you know.”
Winter stares at his Handler, thoroughly confused, while his Handler turns to stare straight ahead, face pink and ears starting to match. Winter doesn’t say anything, but he stops putting space between himself and his Handler, letting himself enjoy the closeness.
