#technically i could claim him as a fully trained service dog

[fayeandknight]

One of things I try to be really cognizant of when doing public access training with Forte is confidence. And more specifically not becoming suspicious in already stimulating environments. It's something I knew I would need to include in my training plans due to his breed and the nature of some of his tasks.

Forte is very friendly for a Belgian but he's also still a Belgian and a teenaged one at that. So a staple of our training is playing look at that look at me games and just learning to chill in various environments.

I'd say Forte is about 75% confident at the mall at this point. He doesn't pull when we are walking but does sometimes drift little farther ahead of me than I'd prefer. And when we stop he does have a tendency to people watch. He doesn't hard stare at people but I feel like it could become that without mindful training.

My own feelings about the mega mall aside, I do actually like it as a place to train for us. It's busy with all kinds of people, there are lots of novel noises, several arcade type places, etc. It also has a lot of large alcoves with seating and only one or two store fronts. So we can have distance from the main thoroughfare while still being able to experience the mall.

Lately I've been using an alcove that faces the elevator banks. We're well out of anyone's way and have plenty of room to play/practice basic obedience. Then we sit and Forte is allowed to take in the environment while being rewarded for settling and checking in with me.

It usually takes him about 10 minutes to go from being in a down to being actually settled. Once he's actually settled I'll do maybe two to three minutes of task training behavior interruptions, then we leave. I'm trying not to have him do any crowd control tasks in the mall yet. Because I don't want to accidentally tip him from observant to suspicious.

He does crowd control in the form of blocking just fine at the grocery store and smaller shops. But I want him more at ease in the mall before I add that into the mix.

Anyway I'm so proud of him, slowly but surely we are coming along.

[onelastbreath-writes]

I Spy (2)

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales/Fem!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary (lite): You literally fall for a guy you meet in a bar, and everything is going great until you learn both of you have been lying about who you are and what you do. Oof. (SpecOps&Spies AU with Young!Frankie)

A/N: Wow part one got a lot of love, thank you so much! And now I also have a taglist going for this fic, so let me know if you want to be tagged the next time I post. This chapter is basically just fluff with a bit of background plot,,, i’ve created both a slow burn, and a 100 metre sprint of a relationship for y’all, so be prepared for that. Depending on what I manage to get into the next chapter, aka if i can finish the story or if i wimp out, there will either be 3 or 4 chapters total, and if i like the universe enough I might have some bonus content in the future. Nothing is set in stone so don’t start counting your chickens yet, but like... maybe. Anyways, I hope you enjoy part 2 of Let Me Have Nice Things I Spy <3

PS it is 3:45am when I’m posting this, please forgive me if its actually just weird thnxxxx

[AO3A][Masterlist]

[Previous Part]

---

“Water with a wedge of lemon, please,” you ordered as you and Frankie claimed a bar stool each at the counter.

“And a coke for me, thank you.”

The drink offer was always a toss up for you; a good way to measure the type of guy interested in your company. Even if you hadn’t decided that you were done with the alcohol tonight, you would still have ordered a water on your date’s dime. It was a simple test of character that more than a few guys had failed in the past. Were they looking to get you drunk, or were they willing to respect your choices? Frankie, so far, had done nothing but respect you.

Your drinks arrive quickly, and the cool glass feels refreshing in your hands. You still feel warm from your brief contact with the handsome man beside you, but after peaking at him from the side of your eyes, you can see that his ears and cheeks also have some red to them as well.

Frankie accepts his glass and angles himself towards you, bumping his knee lightly to yours and offering you another sweet smile. “Would it be presumptuous of me to offer a cheers? To meeting new people? Or I’ve got some great, really catchy and not at all cheesy pick-up lines, if that’s more your style?”

You snorted a laugh at his teasing but held out your drink for him to clink his against, “To meeting new people, then. And please, I have extremely high standards so only your best lines will appease me.”

“Ah, a connoisseur! Well then, please prepare to be amazed,” Frankie swivelled around to fully face you, ran a hand through his hair, fluffing his curls and pushing them away from his face, and cleared his throat for dramatic effect. “You blinded me with your beauty, so I’m going to need your name and number for insurance purposes.”

Your plan was to hold out, not to crack against whatever corny, horribly cliché thing he was going to say to you. You’d been given them all, and had never had much trouble before, even with guys as attractive and cute as Frankie. You had a great poker face, and could keep yourself together like a pro. There was nothing he could say to you that would break your façade. And then he opened his mouth, and you were gone.

“Oh my god! That’s so bad!” You were shaking, gasping while trying to contain and smother your laughter. You hadn’t thought to put your drink down before he started, and you could feel the liquid sloshing around the glass in your hand. Frankie, thankfully, noticed your problem, and gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist to steady your grasp. He helped you set the drink down safely, before pulling your still jittering limb away from further potential accidents. And then, he just didn’t release you.

He had slipped his hand into yours and was running his thumb over your knuckles.

As if your cheeks weren’t warm enough already.

What is it with this guy? You just couldn’t catch a break.

“Okay?” Can I keep holding your hand?

“Yes,” Please don’t let me go.

---

“And so, we’re just, like, full-tilt sprinting to catch this last train. And of course, its raining cats and dogs, so the sidewalk is slippery as hell, and Santi’s down a shoe so he’s splashing around in his sock, and then we hit the stairs up to the platform, and the train is pulling out…” You couldn’t remember the last time you smiled so much but listening to Frankie’s stories about his friends and their misadventures was making your cheeks ache.

You had been trading stories for ages, back and forth and jumping all over your lives to tell each other your greatest hits. Something between you two had just clicked, and it felt like you’d known him forever.

Early in the conversation you’d discovered he was his buddies’ designated driver, and would be on non-alcoholic beverages all night, but offered you anything you would like if you wanted more than water. You’d of course thanked him, but refused, stating your own reasons for sobriety. And that’s the point you got into talking about your careers.

“The guys wanted to get wasted during shore leave, and I’m not big on drinking so I offered to be their ride this time.” He was rather adorably touchy-feely with you, currently playing with your fingers and drawing on your palm absentmindedly.

“Shore leave? So, you’re military then?” That would explain the callouses and healed scars on his hands that you’d also been acquainting yourself with.

“Army, yeah,” Frankie had pointed out his group of hooligans across the room, playing what he’d told you was ‘Extreme Darts’. “Me and Santi were best friends in high school and enlisted together, and then we met Will and Benny in basic training. We worked together well enough to get us assigned to Tom’s squad and the rest’s history.”

“Then you’re still on active duty, right?” You couldn’t say you knew much about how a military contract worked, beyond what you’d seen in movies and on TV, but you knew soldiers were required to do a certain amount of service before they could retire; baring career-ending events that would get them discharged, of course. “When does shore leave end?”

“Ah, that’s a little complicated to explain, actually. We’re technically active soldiers still, but after our last deployment ended, we signed back on as like, uh, contractors. Sort of like on-base reservists? We help out where we can but don’t really see much in-field work, you know?” He was definitely struggling to describe his job to you, and you could imagine there was a lot of red tape and confidentiality around anything military he was doing, so you just nodded along and let him drop it. “But we still have a couple weeks stateside before we ship back out.”

You hummed at that, thinking over your own known schedule. “I can’t say I’ll have much time off before you need to leave, but I would like to see more of you, if you’re agreeable?” There was something special about this guy, and whether you were just friends or something more eventually, you didn’t want to waste your opportunity to have him in your life. Long distance anything was a lot of work, but you wanted him to know you were willing to try if he was.

“Do you like raisins? How would you feel about a date?”

---

That was how your unconventional romance with Frankie Morales started. You’d talked all night, and when the bartender kicked you and your groups out at closing time, he and his friends helped get your girls into their cabs. And once they were all taken care of, he had offered you his arm and walked you to your car like a proper, posh gentleman.

“Goodnight, paloma, thank you for such a wonderful evening.”

You had given him your business card, personal phone number and a flirty call me xx written on the back, and he in turn lifted your hand to brush a delicate kiss to your knuckles with a teasing wink. You went home that night mildly concerned you’d spontaneously combust from the heat blazing through your body. That man was a menace, and he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

He had called the next evening, and from there you spent as much time as you could together. Coffee dates, dinner and movie nights, even a walk in the park like some fairy-tale couple; he always greeted you with a bad pick-up line to make you smile, and a left you with a kiss on the hand at the end of your outings.

It was three wonderful but short weeks later that he got his ship-out date.

You were back at the dive bar where it all started, your friend (and some of her friends) and his all together again, to celebrate their last night of leave. The bar had unofficially become your ‘spot’, and you’d visited a few more times over the weeks, both as private dates and as group activities to get to know the rest of his squad.

It was bittersweet, saying goodbye to your new friends and your, well, Frankie. You had both agreed not to put labels or promises into your relationship until you were sure, and you were fine with that in the beginning when you were still strangers just interested in spending time together. But now you knew him, now you had feelings to back up your attraction to him, and now, he was leaving for who knows how long and you didn’t know if he felt the same way about you.

He must have noticed something was upsetting you, because he excused himself from his buddies’ conversation and held out a hand to help you up out of your chair.

“Join me for some fresh air, hermosa?” He was as courteous as ever as he led you outside into the chilled night, offering you his jacket and his side to cuddle into when you shivered. He was good at reading you by now and could tell when you wanted to work up to saying something without prompting, so he stayed silent and let you organize your thoughts.

You were struggling with your plan, with what you wanted to say to him, ask of him. He was rubbing your shoulder and you reached up to lace your fingers together, remembering the first time you held hands here at the bar…

Please don’t let me go.

That was your answer then, and it was still your answer now. You wanted him to keep holding your hand, now and for however much longer he could. You just needed to tell him that. Easy peasy. And because he’d made a sentimental dork out of you with his unending lines, you couldn’t think of a better way to confess to him. You looked up and met his eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in them.

“I must be a snowflake, because I’ve fallen for you.”

He untangled your fingers from his, pulling his arm away from where it was draped warmly over your shoulders, and took a step back to face you head on.

Oh gods, you wanted to rewind time and stop yourself from opening your big mouth, I’ve ruined it all.

Frankie snagged both of your wrists in his hands, startling you out of your downwards spiral as he tugged you close to his chest. He was staring down at you, brows furrowed and lips pursed seriously. Your hands were pressed between you, resting against his sternum over his steadily beating heart.

“Feel my shirt. It’s made of boyfriend material.”

And then you were both gone, laughing so hard you had tears in your eyes and grins splitting your faces as you held each other close.

You hadn’t ruined anything after all; you could cry you were so relieved.

Once you’d both managed to settle down, he leaned in and rested his forehead against yours, his own shiny eyes meeting yours earnestly. “I’m a terribly selfish man to ask this of you, but would you wait for me? Will you give us a chance? Exclusively?”

“Yes.”

Your first kiss together was there, on that cold night outside the bar where everything changed. It was soft and sweet, and you couldn’t wait for more.

---

Taglist:

@playbucky​

[kaoticspoonie]

Here's the thing positive rewards tend to work best with negative punishments. In all species.

Let's say Mischief does an alert. She gets treats and praise. Now let's say she bites me during training, I take the treats away by zipping up the bag. We usually then have a cool down session without treats or anything bc she is overstimulated.

Now there r four trainers near me that I know and have spoken 2.

There is the positive based trainer. She is who we go to for fun classes with! She is awesome and always willing to discuss dog training and ways to make dog training fun for both the human and the dog and build that bond.

There are three 'balanced' trainers. I would consider one of them balanced and the other two negative based. The one who is actually balanced looks at the individual dog and set of circumstances and determines what is necessary. I have spoken to him previously about helping train a task. He agreed that he wouldn't use an adversive on my dog without my say so and would discuss it with me if he felt it necessary. And that is how he deals with all clients!

The other two trainers I would never trust my dog with. They may advertise themselves as balanced but no. We looked into one as a boarding or board and train when we were thinking of going overseas for a trip. He told me that he requires every dog on the property to be trained with and have a shock collar on. Every single dog in every single class has prong collars, even ones so small I didn't know they made them for?

Anyway I asked if he made acceptions for medical issues then he said they have access to a vet? I asked if he knew if shock collars were safe for epileptic dogs, he said he didn't know but my epileptic dog would be required to wear one???

The other one I have barely spoken to but have been warned by both the trainers I trust to be wary. One of his fully trained service dogs attacked another dog at an event. Ive seen him give way 2 harsh corrections. Flipped a puppy onto his back by the leash which was connected to a prong. I later found out that the puppy was only ten weeks old and in my opinion shouldn't have been at a festival with hundreds of other dogs when he didn't even have all his shots? Let alone be flipped over like that because he was pulling?? It's a puppy??? On a personal note he scoffed at my fully trained service dog bc I'm not a veteran? K didn't do anything wrong he just doesn't believe nonveterans have 'earned' service dogs.

Now there r times when positive punishments are necessary. Sometimes they aren't even intentionally punishments. Like one of my dogs has to be on leash, even in the fence. Technically I'm adding something so he won't do something. (If I have a long line he won't jump the fence bc he got caught in the fence once and was terrified). But for me personally there is a big difference between necessary and just easier.

And I think every decision revolving health or training takes individual research and discussions.

And I will never ever ever go to a vet or trainer or anyone who tries to guilt me or back me into a corner instead of having a discussion. Kaos had a prong collar bc a trainer told us it was the only way we could stay in the class and we had already paid. That is not okay. And that isn't balanced. That's just shady.

So in summary I'm a R+ trainer who will support true balanced trainers but I think there are way to many trainers claiming to be balanced when they are really just abusive. And like that isn't a separate issue. It's a majority of the problem. Especially when they hand their methods of abuse over to their clients without training.

Wtf is wrong with “balanced trainers”. They’re all arrogant and if you mention anything purely positve are adamant negative reinforcement is NEEDED for balance in the training.

It is not needed it’s just a quick fix and making the dog fucking stress. For no reason.

There is a reason why most current, scienced based animal training states R+ is the most humane training method.

You’re not going to correct a cat or a bird in your training, are you? You’re not going to pull your cat or bird when harnessed because they’d freak the fuck out. So how do you get around correcting? Reward based training.

A dog is no different.

[purplesaline]

Hi! It’s me again! I thought I’d split the Long Story from the Short(er) story and just provide a link so the other post doesn’t get too cumbersome. So here goes!

The Long(er) Story

Background

So I’ve got PTSD. Severe, chronic, Complex PTSD that also happens to be med resistant. Believe me, I’ve tried them all. If it’s legal and has shown any possibility of helping PTSD or Anxiety I’ve given it a shot. My PTSD stems from being sexually abused by my stepfather from the age of 12 to 16. I’m 38 now, just to give you an indication of how long I’ve been dealing with this. One of my symptoms is agoraphobia and it was common for me to go three weeks at a time without leaving the house. My PTSD is severe enough that I am on permanent disability.

And then in early 2012 I remembered hearing something about Psychiatric Service Dogs. Just over a year later the handsome devil in the photo up there came into my life. Lance is a PTSD Service Dog who has been specifically trained to mitigate my disability. Some of the tasks he performs for me are: 

Deep Pressure Therapy, laying against or on me to help reduce my anxiety. 

Fidget Alert, I tend to fidget with my hands when I’m anxious and don’t realize it so he’ll bump me with his nose until I pay attention and then I can take steps to reduce my anxiety as needed. 

Perimeter Blocking, which is a big one for me. He stands between me and other people so they can’t get into my personal space bubble.

More than that though, he gives me a safe social outlet. Something for people to approach me to talk about and something for me to talk to other people about. New situations are incredibly challenging for me because I’m self-conscious and have a paranoia of being judged, I constantly worry about not having anything to talk to people about and would always wind up huddled in a corner by myself. That’s not good for someone who is naturally extroverted and has been forced by her disability to be an introvert. With Lance around I know people will approach me and I know they’ll talk to me about Lance, who is a safe subject that I can talk about for weeks if given the chance. I know that if there is an awkward silence I can bring up something silly he’s done or I can focus my attention on him, talk to him or pet him. Lance let’s me be more of the extrovert I am at heart. Since I’ve had Lance I’ve gone from not leaving the house for three weeks at a time to leaving two to three days a week. Even more since I was diagnosed with ADHD and medicated for it, but that’s another story. I got Lance through a Service Dog Program but they had to shut down not long after due to lack of volunteers. Going through the process of trying to learn the laws where I live and trying to figure out how to train him on my own after that, and what to train him for made me realize how little support there is for Owner Trainers so I learned everything I could and I started an organization dedicated to providing education and advocacy for the service dog community. We’re nearly at 400 members now, mostly in Alberta but we’ve got people across the country and even in the US. It was as a representative of this organization that I became involved with the CGSB as a voting member of the technical committee working to create a National Service Dog Standard.

Why we need a National Standard

So Canada, unlike the US, doesn’t have Federal Legislation protecting the use of Service Dogs. We don’t even have a standard definition of what a Service Dog is. Some Provinces have their own legislation and standards but the rest, and the Territories, just have the Human Rights Act clause that states “It’s illegal to discriminate against a person due to disability” and it’s as confusing to service dog teams as it is to the public. This makes it especially hard to travel, or move, from Province to Province, particularly if you were using a service dog in one province only to find you don’t qualify for protection under the provincial legislation in the new one. Veterans Affairs Canada was encountering challenges when it came to providing funding for PTSD Service Dogs to our veterans. Some were getting dogs from places that claimed to have trained them but delivered a dog that, in some cases, didn’t even have the most basic of obedience training mastered. What one organization considered a fully trained service dog another considered nothing more than a pet. There were multiple industry standards out there but there was no Nationally Recognized Standard that VAC could use as their benchmark of what a standards a dog needed to meet to qualify for funding. So they contracted the Canadian General Standards Board to create a National Standard. The CGSB gathered together a technical committee of service dog Providers, Regulators (such as Transport Canada and Provincial Government representatives), Users (like myself), and people with a General Interest (Canadian Veterinary Medical Association, Mental Health Professionals, Disability Advocacy groups) in the creation of a National Standard. There are approximately 25 voting members (of which I am one) and about the same number of informational members (they can participate in discussions but don’t get a vote). Anything that goes into the Standard requires consensus, a majority vote. The Draft Standard has just gone through a public review period where any member of the public that expressed interest was given the chance to review the document and provide their comments. Every single comment that was sent in will be brought up at the next meeting (September 20, 21, 22) and considered. The National Standard is a voluntary standard. It is not law but it can be referenced in legislation. If a Province creates it’s own service dog legislation they can reference the National Standard as the standard a service dog team must meet in order to qualify for protection under that legislation. The National Standard is not a certification process but hopefully one will be created soon after. All it is is a document that outlines the standards and requirements that the technical committee has agreed defines the minimum standards to be considered a service dog team recognized by the National Standard. Which is a long winded and political way of saying “If you meet our standards you can say you’ve met our standards”. If they’re voluntary then what’s the point? A National Standard is the first step on a journey. It’s the foundation for everything that will come after. Provinces are already making their own laws and setting their own standards, that’s not going to stop. If that keeps going the way it is then we’re going to have a country with 13 different ideas of what a Service Dog is. And in the majority, if not all, of those cases the general public won’t get a say in what makes up those Standards. Certifying in each province or territory would create an unnecessary and, for many, an insurmountable barrier assuming a team would meet all the requirements for every place they wanted to be certified in. What the VAC considered a Service Dog the Canadian Revenue Agency might not. What one airline considered a service dog another might not. It’s a maze that even an experienced and well connected service dog handler like myself has a difficult time navigating let alone someone who’s just starting out on their journey. Once a National Standard is created then a Certification process can be created for that standard and since it’s a Consensus based standard with input from a wide cross section of Canada it has a good chance of being used by the majority of Regulators. Someone from Alberta could be certified under the National Standard and it would apply anywhere that Standard is referenced, whether that’s travelling to Ottawa or getting tax deductions. Why me?

Alberta Service Dog Community, the organization I am representing, is made up largely of Owner Trainers. I am the only voting member on the technical committee that is speaking on behalf of owner trainers and it is incredibly important that their interests and needs are considered in this.

Please Donate if you can

And if you can’t donate please reblog/share. My flight is already paid for out of my own pocket. My Hotel room still needs to be paid for and I’ll need cab fare to get to the hotel and back to the airport. I’m on disability and what little money I did have set aside I had to spend on emergency vet bills because my Service Dog decided last month was a good time to develop Hemorrhagic Gastroenteritis and nearly die (he’s back to his normal stubborn and bratty self now!) and while I did have pet insurance they wouldn’t cover this because Lance has gone to the vet in the past, before I had him, for diarrhea (he has a chicken and dairy sensitivity). If I can’t get the funds together to pay for the hotel my only options are write off the money I’ve already spent on the flight, which is nearly a month of room/board for me, or to go to fly out and have a mini-vacation in the airport for the five days/four nights which would not be nearly as entertaining as they’re going to make it out to be on The Bold Type, having neither a Kat or Adena to keep me occupied. I mean I love Lance dearly but he is no replacement for a sexy lady. So that’s the Long(er) story if you wanted to know. Please help me tear down some of the obstacles people with disabilities face.