Everyone likes to feel they are indispensable at work but there are few times that a retirement truly feels like the loss of a limb to those left behind.
Such is the separation that Lynn Jensen is struggling to come to terms with upon the occasion of Howie's stepping down from an illustrious eight-year career as her right hand man.
Actually, make that her left-hand dog.
During his tenure as Jensen's seeing-eye dog, Howie has commuted with her daily on the West Coast Express and the SkyTrain to her Vancouver office. He has travelled across Canada and to nearly 10 other countries. And he has accompanied her on trips to the grocery store, the bank and any number of other destinations that make up the to and fro of a person's life, and in so doing, became an extension of Jensen herself, as familiar and dependable and necessary as her own hand.
She knew from the time that she first welcomed Howie to her life in 2007 that the day would come when she'd have to let him go — she just didn't know it would all go by so quickly.
"It is so hard," Jensen said. "It feels like I'm losing my left leg."
THE NEW KID
The doorbell of Jensen's Port Moody home rings and there is an immediate flurry of activity heard from the inside: barking, and lots of it, and the whirling dervish sounds of several pawed feet skidding, jumping and scampering to reach the door.
When Jensen opens the door, she is doing her best to hold the two black lab/retriever crosses at bay. Howie is taller, shaggier and sports a grey beard while Misty is slightly smaller and glows a deep, all-over midnight black.
The two jostle for pole position next to Jensen and, in walking to the living room, bounce against one another, sniffing and inspecting with equal measures of suspicion and curiosity.
Misty is the new kid in town, having just arrived that morning. It was the day after Howie's retirement from his official work duties, although he'll continue working part-time, so to speak, during Jensen's three-week training period with Misty, after which he'll hang up his guide dog leash for the last time and become a beloved family pet. (Jensen lives with her twin sister and her husband, and their twin 18-month-old girls).
"It's going to take some time to build that relationship," Jensen said of the transition to a new guide dog. "It's like driving a standard [transmission] after years of an automatic; the last eight years, I went to and from work and I didn't have to put any thought into it."
'AMAZING CAREER'
Jensen is now working six hours a day with Misty and a mobility instructor. It's a slow process as the two get used to working together — learning turns, then street crossings and, eventually, branch out to using public transit.
As the two get closer, their circle expands. What starts out as brief forays into the neighbourhood eventually become trips to work, to do errands, to take the stage at the Rocky Point Toastmasters club (Howie is an honorary member known for stealing the show from Jensen) and even to travel the world.
"He's had an amazing career," Jensen said.
Strangely enough, Jensen was never much of a fan of dogs and had never considered having a pet.
But shortly after graduating from nursing school 19 years ago, she lost her vision due to a medical condition and, once she had mastered the white cane, it was time to consider a guide dog. Jensen laughs when she recalls how she used to shut the bedroom door on Mae, Howie's predecessor, or sit with her legs up on the sofa so the dog wouldn't touch her.
It wasn't long, however, before her first dog had "squirmed her way into my heart," and changed her life forever, and for the better.
"I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing without [a guide dog]. It's given me independence, confidence — my life has changed dramatically since I've had a dog."
Howie arrived in July 2007; Mae stayed on as a family pet for two years before she passed away.
By January 2008 Howie was joining Jensen on a trip to Mexico with her and her sister, where he relished in playing on the beach and swimming in the ocean. And when Jensen and her sister rented a tandem kayak and paddled away, Howie, already fiercely loyal, swam after her and hoisted himself up on to the boat between the sisters like a sodden sentinel.
Over the years, Howie returned to Mexico six times and also explored Germany, the Netherlands, Denmark, Norway and Sweden; it was in Norway where he donned a Viking helmet, earning him the nickname "Howie the Terrible."
But it was in the everyday trips, the commutes and the quiet times at home, where Howie likes to cuddle up with a favourite stuffed toy, that the bond between them was forged.
"I'm so emotional," Jensen said. "You're in this for the long haul, and it's hard knowing that it's coming to an end. It's just part of you."
A DELICATE BALANCE
Howie's last day of work on Feb. 17 included honours befitting the retirement of an employee of his stature. With great coaxing — and eventually some lifting and hauling — Howie got to ride on the seat next to Jensen on the West Coast Express, much to his chagrin.
A fellow passenger who had come to know Howie well on those regular trips downtown had a blue ribbon ready to pin on his leash. It read, "Retired — let the fun begin!"
At the Canadian National Institute for the Blind office, where Jensen works as a rehabilitation teacher, showing those with vision loss how to cook, identify clothing colours, sort money, navigate kitchen cupboards and much more, Howie snuggled in his corner cot and welcomed an inordinate number of treats from fellow staff.
And over the weekend, Jensen was looking forward to showering Howie with affection while also welcoming Misty into the family.
It's a delicate balance that will take time to perfect, she said.
"When I pull out the harness for the first time and put it on Misty, it's going to break my heart," she admits.
Eventually, Howie will learn to shift to Jensen's right side, on a normal dog leash, while Misty takes the reins as the guide dog on the left, but whether Howie will like it is another story.
Asked to pose for a photo, Misty quickly slides to Jensen's left side, sitting proudly as the young, sleek usurper while the wizened Howie, perturbed and confused, dances around them and eventually turns to stare at the wall. Jensen does her best to bring Howie in, and is rewarded with a face full of dog kisses.
Later, the two dogs come to an uneasy truce on the floor at Jensen's feet but neither will stray more than a few inches from her, always jockeying for the position that Howie isn't quite ready to relinquish.
He has enjoyed an admirable career and a celebrated retirement, but don't expect Howie to go gently into that good night.
