The Goodbye 

By Lynn Veale 

Last August we sent our first born child off to college.  I was absolutely dumbfounded by how quickly the previous 18 years had gone.  How could this beautiful young woman grow from an infant to an adult in the blink of an eye?  Where was I that it should happen so quickly without my noticing it?  I remember clearly when she was a baby thinking how the sleepless nights would never end.  But children do grow up, much too quickly, and we learn that the rough and tumble little boys and the tall and gangly little girls grow into beautiful, articulate, well mannered adults of which we are mighty proud.  And so it is with the puppies.  In one short year they go from not knowing their names or how to walk on a leash to being a calm, patient, well behaved adult dog ready to go to doggie college.  Every year I am stunned by how quickly my puppy grew and how much we accomplished in one short year.  The licks and kisses I receive from my puppy on the day I send him back to California to complete his training feel just like the hugs and kisses I received from my little girl on the day we dropped her off at the university.  Although she never said the words, her demeanor clearly stated, “goodbye, Mom, I’m going off to college now.  I’m happy, I’m excited, and I’m ready.”  Saying goodbye was hard.  Extremely hard.  But moving on is what she needed to do and letting her go is what I needed to do.  She was ready.  I did everything I could to make sure she was ready.  I have no doubt she will do her best and eventually make the world a better place in her own unique way.  The puppies, too, seem to have the same demeanor when I put them on the puppy truck to go back to California.  They seem excited for the new adventure, for the next phase of their training, and they are ready to move on. 

A few weeks ago I received a letter from Guide Dogs for the Blind, Inc. informing me that it was time to send my current puppy-in-training, Olympic, back to the California campus to complete his formal training.  The recall was set for May 2, 2009.  Although I had been expecting the letter, I am always surprised and sad when I actually hold that letter in my hands and realize that yet once again I must go through the bittersweet experience of saying goodbye to my beloved puppy who too quickly grew into a beautiful adult dog.  No matter how prepared I think I am, it is always hard to say goodbye to the puppies.  I used to think it would be easier the more I did it, but it isn’t.  I used to think it would be easier once I had a career-change dog of my own waiting for me at home, but it isn’t.  With tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat, I give my puppy a kiss and whisper in his ear, “Goodbye, my sweet puppy. I love you. Do your best,” then I walk away.  Having said goodbye to seven puppies, I have decided that there is no possible way to make it easier.  It hurts and there is no getting around that.  It is sad.  It is painful.  It makes me ache inside.  And it is so worth it.  Moving on is what he needs to do and letting him go is what I need to do.  He is ready.  I did everything I could to make sure he was ready.  I have no doubt he will do his best and eventually he will make the world a better place in his own unique way. 

As puppy raisers, part of our job is educating the general public on what is involved in raising a guide dog puppy.  We receive many comments and questions from the public and almost everyone we speak to has a dog story of his own to tell.  People love dogs and it is evident in just about every conversation we have with the public.  The love and dedication people have for their own pets is clearly conveyed in the most common statement we hear:  “Isn’t it hard to give them up?  I could never do that!”  Sending the puppies back to the school for formal training is absolutely the hardest day of the year for a puppy raiser.  And although most people seem to think we choose to raise guide dog puppies in spite of The Goodbye, any raiser can tell you that we actually choose to raise guide dog puppies because of The Goodbye. 

To the general public, The Goodbye means “I’ve raised you as my own for a year and I love you with all my heart.  You are a part of me and I love you dearly.  I’ve poured my heart and soul into training you and now I must give you away.  I’m so sorry.”  But from the perspective of a puppy raiser, The Goodbye is far different.  To a puppy raiser, The Goodbye means “I’ve raised you as my own for a year and I love you with all my heart.  You are a part of me and I love you dearly.  I’ve poured my heart and soul into training you and now you must go on to be all that you can be.  Go and do your best.”  To puppy raisers, The Goodbye is very significant.  The Goodbye doesn’t mean goodbye.  The Goodbye means hope.  Hope that our puppies will become successful working guide dogs.  Hope that our puppies will make a positive life-altering impact on a visually impaired person; a person who needs that puppy far more than we do.  And hope that if the dog chooses not to become a guide, he will be a successful ambassador to the guide dog program by having his story told to others through his adopted family.  To puppy raisers, The Goodbye means progress.  With the return of each puppy is the evidence that we are making the world a better place one tiny paw print at a time.  And most importantly, The Goodbye means love.  In guide dog puppy raising, saying goodbye is the fullest expression of love. It is the love we give our puppies that allows them to have the confidence and the skills to make a difference in the world in their own unique, furry, four footed way.  The guide dog program cannot exist without that love.  That love is freely given from each raiser to his or her puppy, and through that puppy to its visually impaired partner or adopted family, and through that partner or family member to all who come in contact with that special dog.  I believe that every single person on this planet has a responsibility to do something, no matter how small, to make the world we live in a better place.  Some of us hope to make the world better simply by whispering, “goodbye.” 

Goodbye, my sweet Olympic.  I love you.  Do your best.