emma and i - Sheila Hocken Read online

  I sent a tape-recorded cassette to tell her how much Emma had

  come to mean to me, and to thank her for giving Emma as a

  guide-dog after puppy-walking her. That was the beginning

  of a correspondence by cassette, and of a friendship that

  continues to this day.

  Through this correspondence I learned all sorts of little

  details about Emma. Paddy had her from the age of eight

  HOME AGAIN 55

  weeks, and she sent me a photograph taken at this time.

  Although I had to rely on other people's descriptions of the

  photograph it was splendid to have a picture of Emma as she

  was when she was first picked out ofthe litter to be a guide-dog.

  She was already eighteen months old when I first met her,

  so of course I missed all her puppy ways, but to hear Paddy

  describe them on cassette was the best possible substitute.

  She said that Emma had always seemed a busy dog, was

  interested from the beginning in doing things constructively,

  and always gave the impression of having something on her

  mind. This confirmed what I knew of her.

  On one cassette Paddy told me a story that I possibly found

  more amusing than she had at the time. One day Paddy

  planted some hundred and fifty bulbs in her garden. She had

  then gone indoors, leaving Emma still playing on the lawn.

  After about half an hour, Emma came in looking extremely

  pleased with herselœ When Paddy happened to look out of the

  window a moment or so later, she was confronted with a huge

  pile of bulbs neatly stacked on the back doorstep. Emma had

  dug each one up with loving care and immense energy, and

  was thrilled to have been such a help in restoring them to their

  owner.

  Before long, Paddy asked me to visit her in Yorkshire. They

  were having a small function to raise money for guide-dogs at

  a local fete and she rightly thought I would like to go with

  Emma. Through our cassette correspondence, I felt I already

  knew Paddy, but I wondered if Emma would remember her.

  As we got off the coach I heard Paddy's voice greeting us,

  'Hello, Sheila. How are you?' And it was the signal for Emma

  to go wild. She leaped all over Paddy, but although she was

  delighted to see her again, she kept coming back to me as if to

  say, 'Well, I'm pleased to be here, but I haven't forgotten that

  I'm your dog.'

  Ernma and I started to go to work together as soon as we were

  settled again. At that time I lived in Carlton, on one side of

  Nottingham, and I worked right over the other side, the

  56 EMMA AND I I

  Bulwell side of the city. I had to catch two buses, with a walk

  across tlle Market Square in the middle of Nottingham in

  between. The terminus for the first bus was at the bottom of

  our road, so that part was easy. Emrna trotted down the road

  with her tail in the air-I could feel it brushing my hand as

  we went along-andi at the sarne time, I began to learn how

  sensitive it was possible to be, via the harness, to what she

  was doing. Through it I could tell whether her cars were up or

  down, whether she was turning her head left or right, and all

  sorts of little movements.

  We found the stop, and frorn that moment Emma loved

  going on buses. It was not just the bus itself, however. One

  important factor was the admiration she received that morning,

  and every time we got on ai bus henceforth: 'Oh, what a

  lovely dog. Oh, what a beautiful colour.' And so on. I could

  sense Ernma basking in the glory. She had picked the second

  seat on the right for me. For sorne reason, this was the place

  she always chose on this particular bus. I sat down, and Emma

  went under the seat. Strangely, this was the only bus on which

  she had such a preference: it always had to be the same one.

  After we had been going to work together for about three

  weeks, we were nearing the bus one morning when I began to

  pick up the sound of a great commotion going on inside

  it. As we came alongside I could hear a woman's muffled

  shout: 'You'll have to get up you know. You can't sit there,

  I tell you it's Ernma's seat. CoDme on-they'll be here in a

  minute.'

  On other buses, Emma sirrylply went for any empty seat,

  preferably-in the winter at least-one near the heaters. But

  since we normally travelled in the rush-hour the buses, apart

  from our first one, were very often full, so she had to use a

  different technique. She would drag rne along the aisle, nosing

  everyone else out of the way if there were standing passengers,

  decide on where she wanted us to sit, then stare at whoever

  was sitting there until they gave way. To be fair, they normally

  gave the scat up very quickly, arid before the bus was in

  an uproar. This, of course, appealed to the exhibitionist in

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  57

  Emma. When she was sure she had got her audience, she

  would turn to me, lay her head across my knee, looking, I

  imagined, specially devoted and possibly a little pathetic. By

  this time the entire bus was hers.

  But to get back to that first morning. When I walked into the

  office there was a reception committee waiting. While everyone

  said 'Hello' to me, they were clearly more interested in

  seeing what Emma was like. Emma once again responded with

  great delight, and when I had taken her harness off, took it

  round, her tail wagging, to show everyone in turn.

  So she was a hit straight away, and when the others had

  gone she inspected her basket, played for a while with a rubber

  toy I had brought with me to occupy her, then settled down.

  The telephone had already started going, and soon it was like

  old times-with the tremendous difference of that reassuring

  sleeping form under my desk. The morning went on, and in a

  lull, thinking what a good quiet dog Emma was being, I put

  my hand down to pat her head. But, where her head should

  have been, there was nothing. I felt round in a wider circle.

  Emma had disappeared! I immediately got up and went to

  feel if my office door was open; sure enough, it was. I called

  her. No response. All sorts of anxieties began to crowd in on

  me. Had she got out? What if she had gone into the street?

  What if she were lost ... what ... then I heard the sound of

  paws coming down the corridor. Thank goodness. In came

  Emma. 'Emma,' I said, 'where have you been?' Her reply

  was to push something into my lap. I did not want to believe

  my fingers. It was a purse. I was horrified. 'Emma I Where did

  you get that from?' Her reply this time was to do her tattoo

  bit, bouncing up and down on her forelegs, and swishing me

  furiously with her tail. The message was clear: 'How about

  that for brilliance! I've brought you somebody's purse.'

  Fleetingly, the thought of a four-legged Artful Dodger came

  to mind. I took the purse from her, and hoped that someone

  would come and claim it, and accept my excuses.

  The owner concerned eventually found out what had

  happened,
and came to claim the purse. But no one would

  I

  58 EMMA AND I HOME AGAIN 59

  believe that I had not taught Emma to perform the trick, told her to go forward. But she would not

  move. She simply

  which did nothing to case my n-iind about the prospect of continued to sit. I could not understand what

  was going on.

  the afternoon, or indeed of continuing to work for Industrial

  I thought that perhaps I had misjudged the traffic, so when it

  Pumps. It was a relief to take Emma out of the office for a run

  in the local park. This was something I had decided I must do was quiet I told her again. Still she would

  not go forward.

  Instead, she got up and turned right, and started taking me

  every day. Since she worked hard it was only fair that she along the pavement. 'Emma,' I said, rather

  desperately, as

  should have a free run whenever possible. I was being dragged along, 'where are you

  taking me? Where's

  I sat myself on a bench with my sandwiches, let her off the bus stop? Come on. Bus stop. . .' But no,

  she would not

  the lead, and she went charging across the grass. I soon listen, or if she did listen she certainly

  did not take any notice.

  heard barking in the distance, and recognized Emma. But We went on, across a road, made a sharp left

  turn, and crossed

  every so often she would come back to me, touch my hands another road. Then she sat down again. I had

  no idea where

  with her nose, and then scamper off again. It was something we were. I had completely lost my sense of

  direction, and was

  that she never failed to do whenever we went to the park from utterly confused about the pattern I had to

  keep in my mind

  then on. She was reassuring me: 'Im here, and I haven't

  in order to reach the bus stop; this was the equivalent of the

  forgotten you.' checks that sighted people, probably

  unconsciously, make

  That afternoon I sat down at the switchboard, and, in when they are getting from A to B: right at

  St Mary's Church,

  between calls, waited uneasily for the sound of Emma bring- past W. H. Smith's, left at the Royal Oak,

  and so on.

  ing me another gift. But she settled down and slept, and after I was not only disappointed in Emma, but

  slightly upset

  that did not bring any more presents-at least, not in the and annoyed with her as well. 'Emma,' I said

  crossly, 'we

  office. Perhaps it was her way of making a mark, and returning shall be late for work.' How do you tell the

  boss that it was the

  her welcome. Whatever it was, I was pleased it was over. dog who made you late? Thinking back, it must

  have looked

  The first week went by very happily. Travelling to and from

  a rather comic scene to anyone passing by. 'Excuse me,' I

  work, in fact, became easier every day. I did not have to give

  said as the next footsteps approached, 'can you tell me how to

  Emma all the lefts and rights in the Square because she soon get to the forty-three bus stop, please?'

  There was a silence

  began to take me straight to the right road and across to the for a second or two, during which time I

  thought: they don't

  forty-three bus stop. I started to appreciate, and this was know, we really are lost. Then a man's

  voice, obviously

  something that established itself firmly as time went on, that puzzled, said, 'Forty-three bus stop? You're

  at the forty-three

  Emma had only to take any route once and she knew it. I had bus stop. Your dog's at the foot of the

  post.' I was relieved,

  no sooner discovered this than I found there was a drawback astonished, and utterly baffled. We got on

  the bus when it

  in having such an intelligent dog. came along, and I put the incident out of my

  mind. Until the

  About the middle of the second week we set off for work as following morning.

  usual. I merely said to Emma that we were going to work, This time Emma went left instead of right,

  crossed another

  and, by now, knew she could do this without any corrections road, turned right, crossed a further road,

  walked along and

  or promptings. We got our first bus, and reached the Market sat down. We were at the forty-three bus stop

  again. I was

  Square. Everything was fine. But when we got to the first road unnerved, but by now getting used to the

  feeling. At work, I

  to cross in the Square, Emma sat down instead of going for- asked Carol, a friend who I knew came to the

  office via the

  ward. I listened for traffic, and when I thought it was clear, Market Square, if there were any roadworks on

  the route I

  I

  6o

  had originally mapped out. She said no, and no new building

  either, or any kind of obstruction. en the

  I was totally at a loss. I thought and thought, and th

  only possible explanation came to me: Emma, having learnt

  a route, became bored with having to follow it every day. So

  she invented variations. From then on she found a series of

  routes round the Market Square quite independently of any

  guidance from me, and chose one of them every day. I soon

  became resig),ned to this and got up ten nunutes earlier just to

  allow for Emma's possibly making a mistake. But, of course,

  she never did.

  EMMA AND I

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ANITA

  B Y N 0 W I was learning that Emma gave me a certain freedom

  not only to go where I liked but also to do what I liked. The

  limits were not as narrow as might be imagined. All sorts of

  subjects fascinated me and I decided to enrol in an evening

  class called Writer's Craft. It was through this that I met

  Anita.

  During one of the tea breaks at the class I heard a warm,

  friendly voice saying, 'Hello, and aren't you a beautiful

  dog?' And then to me, 'Do you mind if I talk to your dog?

  I've never met a guide-dog before. She really is a beautiful

  colour.' The owner of the voice eventually introduced herself

  as Anita. And this was the start of a very true friendship.

  Anita was roughly the same age as I was, about nineteen

  and she had come from Hull to take a job in Nottingham.

  I gathered later that she was attractive with a good figure and

  short, dark hair. One thing which struck me particularly was

  her strong Yorkshire accent. Since she liked dogs, apparently

  she used to watch with fascination the way Emma and I used

  to come into the evening classes, and it wasn't long before we

  got talking.

  Sometime after I met her and found we got on well

  together, Anita told me she was thinking of leaving her digs

  and looking for something bigger-a flat preferably, depending

  on whether she could find someone to share. What did I

  62 EMMA AND I

  think of the idea of moving in with her? Well, what did I

  think? I didn't know immediately. It was one thing being

  more or less a free agent outside the house with Emma to

  guide me, knowing that at home I would be relieved of some

  of the chores. It was quite another to go and live as a fully

  participating member of
a household. It was a big step to

  consider. And there was another complication: Tiss. Tiss was

  my ginger cat.

  One of the first things I had wanted to do after I got Emma

  home from Leamington was to buy a kitten, in the hope that

  Emma would gradually overcome her dislike of cats. We went

  along to the local pet shop and after the man had described

  all the kittens he had, I thought a ginger tom sounded the

  nicest. So this small bundle of fur was removed from its cage

  and placed in my hands: warm and tiny, its heart pounding.

  Emma apparently looked at him quite thoughtfully, and I

  felt her put her nose up to him in my hands. She did not run a

  mile, and he did not spit at her. So he was the one. He was

  lovely, but grew into a strange cat, slightly schizophrenic.

  Tiss (just a nickname that stuck) came into our home a small

  fluffy ball of good nature and friendliness. He took to Emma,

  and she to him, although for the first few days she used to

  mistake him for a furry, animated toy, and would pick him

  up, so I was told, and throw him about. But he would wash

  Emma's ears, lick her nose with his rough little tongue, and

  purr, and they would sit at the fireside together. I imagined

  them as a picture of bliss.

  Then Tiss began to show the other side of his nature: he

  would wait on the arm of a chair and when Emma passed

  would leap off and swing on her ear. Emma never protested,

  or seemed to mind other teasings that Tiss got up to.

  He was so silent about the place that I could never hear

  where he was and was afraid of treading on him until I

  bought him a collar and little bell. But he soon learned how to

  move without tinkling the bell. Tricks apart, he seemed to

  worship Emma, and despite the dislike she had always shown

  for cats, she made an exception for Tiss. He in turn would

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  63

  never go to sleep without Emma, and this he did by curling

  up on top of her in the dog-bed.

  Tiss, therefore, was a consideration when it came to

  deciding about moving into a flat with Anita. But I finally

  thought, 'Why not?' Anita said she did not mind sharing with