GUESS WHO celebrated his super sixth birthday last Wednesday?
Regular readers of this column – and certainly fans of my loyal service and therapy dogs who share my home with me – would know the answer at once.
The birthday boy was none other than my trusty Alsatian or German Shepherd Dog (GSD) named Biman The 3rd!
Many of you will recall how and why this amazing canine-carer came into my life. And later, quickly went on to become the real power behind Wheel Power today.
He was picked as a pup six years ago. His mission was not at all an easy one for one that was so little at merely seven weeks of age.
His job: To fill into the incredible “giant paws” of another sterling GSD called Biman II.
That large and powerful black and tan canine was responsible for spending much of his doggy life helping me to cope with my depression – a role I appreciated most during the critical years of my life.
Through his interaction I was finally able to come to terms with my disability and fully accept my condition.
Without the canine’s intervention, I would never have accepted my wheelchair, or the rest of my problems associated with my handicap called spina bifida.
Even in Biman II’s untimely death about seven years ago, the experience turned out to be a lesson-in-reverse; that is, of life and positive-living, come what may.
I learnt about how important it is to stick by your friends as Biman did for me during the good and bad times.
I hugged him close and tightly to my chest as the veterinarian injected the lethal concoction to painlessly end his suffering from cancer.
It was the hardest decision that I had ever made – even more difficult than all the major surgeries that I had undergone in my life.
And yet, the amazing canine taught me effectively and meaningfully how to say one’s final “goodbye” when the time comes.
And although deep inside my heart still bleeds every time I think of his passing, I always try to focus on the celebration of life in the memory of that angel of a shepherd who influenced my life so much.
To do anything otherwise would be a betrayal of everything that remarkable GSD lived and died for during the brief journey that we shared together.
And although Biman III is quite a different dog in his own right, his life and relationship with me is still based on the same principals of his predecessor.
He was the only brother among three sisters in a dog farm in Klang when I got him.
I had no trouble in picking him out from the rest of his family because he was the only pup among the litter that made me laugh with his antics. I caught him peeing quietly in the breeder’s office when no one was looking.
Biman III came into my life approximately six months after his role model had died.
Our toughest task was in getting to know and bond with each other.
The early days of training proved extremely difficult.
I religiously followed every detail of the service dog training manual that was specially handed over to me to train Biman by the International Association of Assistance Dog Partners in Michigan, USA.The little boy had a number of exercises to pass each day. He had to lie down on my bed with me, retrieve objects from drinking cans to pencils on the floor, learn to walk with my wheelchair and go out on daily drives in my car.
The first big break came one day when he accidently broke loose from my grip and dashed off a couple of metres in a field full of people. But he stopped short in his tracks at once and made an about turn and came leaping into my arms again the moment I called out to him.
Biman III today is top dog among my other service dogs that make up another GSD, a Golden Retriever and a Shetland sheepdog.
He is the only one who is able to open and close the doors of my home and pick up a complicated number of objects from the floor.
He watches me like a hawk when I’m working on my computer late at nights and when I’m in the bathroom. At the slightest hint of trouble, he is by my side in a flash.
When I’m asleep he is right beside me too, next to my bed and under my wheelchair.
All I need to do when the lights are switched off until the morning is to put my hand to my wheelchair.
I’m at once greeted by a wet nose and a warm lick in the pitch dark assuring me: “Don’t worry pal, you are in good hands, I’m right here beside you.”
Note: This article was first printed in April of this year.
The End
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