My sister decided that the best way to end my niece's tears was the following, which I am paraphrasing: You know how Uncle Matt is going to die; he is going to fall or choke to death. In other words, something caused by FA but not directly FA.
I am not sure how this made my niece feel better. It didn't make me feel very good. Also, it didn't mention my service dogs, who have been trying to kill me for years.
Shortly after I got her, Claren knocked me out of my chair, breaking my collar bone. She was the culprit behind many other incidents as well.
Fame is well behind in that regard, but there's time. And she seems up to the task.
For instance, I still have not gotten a handle on Fame's poop schedule. At training, I was lucky to get her to go once a day. Now she goes twice a day usually, but once is not unheard of. Three is.
On Thursday, she pooped at 10 at night. She then pooped at 7 a.m. Friday. Surely, I thought as I walked her at lunch, she is pooped out. So I let her hurry in a sort-of wheelchair-unfriendly area.
I entered cautiously to pick it up. I bent down and felt my chair tip, so I sat up and backed up OK. Then I went in again, picked up the poop and got stuck.
And the fun began.
I was in an out-of-the-way spot and hidden by shrubs, so passersby weren't the answer. I called a friend -- not there. Not at his cell either. I tried three others at work. Nothing. I called my neighbor who also works with me. Nothing. I saw two co-workers on Facebook, so I texted them.
Finally, I got the first person, and he came and got me out.
The kicker: She also pooped on the walk at night.