Guide Dogs

It's one of those thoughts that's been ticking away at the back of my head for a while, but I think guide dogs are taking the piss. This was confirmed to me the other day when a guide dog was waiting with it's owner at a pelican crossing. It waited until it changed back to the red man before stepping out. They made their way across, although they had a near miss with a cyclist coming the other way, and then he wrapped the owner around the traffic bollard on the other side. I'm sure the little beggar turned around and winked at me.

I used to think guide dogs were very quiet and unflappable. I can remember sitting on a bus in Newcastle with our dog at that time whilst a guide dog was lying patiently at its owner's side. Our dog was known as The Sausage, although a friend of mine referred to her as Zoltan: Hound of Dracula, and was a lurcher - a cross between a border collie and a greyhound, specifically designed to cause mayhem and round up sheep very quickly. I contemplated swapping it with the guide dog and wondered if the owner would notice. However, since he had a well trained working dog and I had what was essentially a Tasmanian Devil on a piece of rope, I didn't think I would get away with it that easily.

My first inkling that guide dogs might be taking the piss happened at a wedding I attended at Doune Castle. Doune Castle is famed as one of the locations for Monty Python and the Holy Grail and this resulted in American tourists mingling amongst the wedding guests whilst clacking coconut shells together. As half of them were Welsh, a bus had been provided to take the wedding guests to the reception and this is actually where the most Monty Python thing happened. A blind man with a guide dog arrived at the castle and let his dog off the lead. The dog took one sniff at the bus and wandered off to find discarded food, pee on trees or whatever it is that amuses dogs. However, clearly the man wasn't expecting the bus to be there as he walked straight into the thing. The dog looked around with an amused expression on it's face as if to say, "Look - he's knackered without me."

My next example of guide dog Mickey-taking was a couple of years ago in Glasgow at Christmas time. I had popped into the Argyle Street branch of Woolworths to look for some presents but the place was packed out. I tried to get out of the shop as best I could and noticed that it was rather quiet by the Pick 'n' Mix. I was trying to slip through to the main door when I saw a blind man, standing next to the sweets, looking bewildered and lost. His guide dog was by him merrily munching its way through the Everton mints. It's no wonder Woolies went bust.

As far as I can tell, the main criteria for becoming a guide dog is being a Labrador Retriever. The main purpose of these dogs is stuffing their faces and riding around in the back of Volvo estates but they have gained a reputation for being good working dogs - mainly for their intelligence and obedience. My current dog, Eddie, is a Whippet - a breed which is renowned for being very fast and very stupid. However, my dog can speak, of sorts. His favourite phrases are "Ah want one" and "Gonnae no". It's what I always wanted - a dog with a strong Glaswegian accent. The thing is, could he pull it off as a guide dog? Due to his colour, he looks vaguely like a guide dog - except he is only about a third of the width. If I put on a pair of Ray Bans, would anyone notice?

Now, the thing with me in Ray Bans, rather than my usual prescription lenses (which would not be out of place on the Hubble Space Telescope), is that I can't actually see much - so it is a fair test. Walking into the local CO-OP I actually manage to manoeuvre around the trolleys and make my way up the aisle. Then someone spoke to me.

Assistant: Can I help you?
Me: No thanks - I'm OK.
Assistant: Is that a guide dog?
Me: Err, yes
Assistant: He's a bit thin.
Me: I know, I can never find the dog food in this place.
Assistant: It's just over here.
Eddie: Ah want one!
Assistant: Is that a talking dog?
Eddie: Gonnae no!
Assistant: Is he from Glasgow?
Me: Oh, just outside.
Assistant: I thought so.

At this point I thought it would be a good time to scarper. Just outside the shop the little bugger managed to wrap me around the bike racks. Job done!