An audio version of this post is available by clicking the link above.
By way of introduction to this new blogging venture, a little story. Or is that, perhaps, a little history?
I've never been much of a one for dogs. I could always do the polite thing and smile and play at saying "woof" when some dog owner or other was in the vicinity, but mostly my feelings toward the canine kind have been more-or-less non-existent. Couldn't have cared less about them, really. This has recently changed somewhat.
I was brought up in an almost pet free household. In physical shape, that'll be this house, in case you're curious. That's me outside it a couple of years back on a nostalgic visit back to Freshford which is close to Bath in Somerset.
You might have noticed the white cane in the photo above. More of that in a moment.
Like many small kids I had a hamster. Two, actually. In fairly rapid succession. Hamsters don't tend to last all that long which probably suited the adults of the house. My Sis had much the same experience with rabbits.
Marriage number one came along in due course and herself was, and probably still is, a cat fan. So we had cats. I quite liked having cats around.
Marriage number one came to a fairly abrupt end. I ended up, for a short while at least, back in the house you've already had a gander at.
Marriage number two arrived unexpectedly and is still going very strong. This state of affairs is expected to continue indefinitely. Huzzah! What's more, the present Mrs the Millbrooker (yes, I've decided to keep that name from the old defunct blog for the moment) is also a cat fan. We partially sealed our relationship by acquiring Trevelyan and Trelawney who then moved with us away from the Somerset/Wiltshire borders to our wee corner of Cornwall.
Here we have Trelawney on the left with his sister Trevelyan on the right.
Everything must pass, and the two Ts are no longer with us. We now have the entertaining duo of Didi and Gogo. You get to see them shortly.
We also have the Pointless Pet who's called Tortue, she doesn't come into the house - her choice. We feed her and that's it as far as interaction is concerned. Hence "Pointless Pet".
And now there's about to be a new member of the household. This is where those of you who noticed the white cane might get an idea of what I'm on about. Just under a year ago, after a three stage process, I was accepted onto the waiting list for a guide dog. I have Retinitis Pigmentosa, alongside that I live with recurrent Iritis / Uveitis. Don't panic, I'm not about to go all self-pitying on you.
On Monday last (that'll be the 20th of Jan, then) I met Rusty for the first time. He's not mine yet, but he will be. We have been "matched" and I reckon we're going to have a lot of fun. He's as daft as brush as well as being, as all guide dogs are, clever enough to act as my eyes when we're out and about.
This is Rusty as he arrived for his "matching visit", in the care of his trainer the lovely Emma. It does rather look as if I'm eyeing up her backside in this photo, but I can assure you I wasn't.
Rusty and I got acquainted as Emma talked Mrs the Millbrooker and me through some of the things we're going to need to know during the coming adventures.
Remember that I mentioned Didi and Gogo a short while back? Before Rusty and I could be taken out for our "matching walk", he needed to do what the Guide Dogs Association politely refers to as "spending". He needed a poo. So I opened up the French doors to the back garden which will become his "spending" area (yes, I will clear it up!).
On hearing the doors open the two little black furry boys came hurtling down the steps, doubtless thinking to themselves "lunch" or something similar. They screeched to a halt and froze as they spotted a large dog-shaped intruder on THEIR PATCH!
There was a Mexican stand-off for a while: Didi was the first to decide that discretion is the better part of valour and high-tailed it back up the steps and into the neighbouring garden. Gogo stuck it out for a while - frozen to the spot with his eyes as wide as saucers.
Rusty was similarly frozen to the spot. Neither of them knew what to do. Mrs the Millbrooker, Emma and I watched and tried not to giggle too much. Eventually Rusty decided to bark. Gogo stood his ground. Rusty barked again. Gogo turned tail and, at the speed of well-lubricated lightning, scrabbled up the steps and into the neighbour's viburnum shrub. Neither he, nor Didi, were seen for most of the rest of the day.
Don't worry, cat fans, they've got over their trauma now and are well and truly back in the fold. Of course, Rusty will be returning. And permanently, so they're just going to have to get used it.
That's pretty much the story I wanted to tell for today. Rusty and I walked around Millbrook Lake with Emma behind us making sure we didn't get up to too much mischief.
Emma decided we'd make a decent team and what happens next is that I get to spend a week in the glorious (ahem) surroundings of Weston Super Mare doing basic training with Rusty. That starts on Feb 17th.
Then another week back at home with daily training sessions. Probably a few more bits and bobs of training and route learning after that, at which point I should become a qualified guide dog handler and, with the ongoing and welcome support of the Guide Dogs Association, Rusty and I will have many years together.
And our adventures will be chronicled here. I expect there'll be news from Weston Super Mare as we go along. Stay tuned!
