Jingle is afraid of stairs. Part of it is her body. She’s very deer like. All legs. When she goes down stairs too quicky, her long front legs splay out in front of her like Bambi on ice. She’s cautious going up as well.
While Jingle isn’t in school at this point, (she and Riley need time to solidify their bond before approaching that step) she comes with me to pick up the kids. The other day I was greeted outside by an aide who said,
“You probably want to go upstairs to the sensory room. Riley is in the middle of a meltdown.”
So up we went. Jingle did the army crawl half way up the big flight of stairs. As we turned on the landing to face the next set, the bell rang (loud) and then a million kids burst forth. Jingle was terrified, but she kept it together. She ”jingled” into the sensory room and found Riley crying on a beanbag chair, a teacher attempting to comfort her by talking through a puppet. Jingle’s tail wagged furiously as she ran up and greeted her girl. Riley smiled through her tears.
We moved Riley to sit on the floor and showed the teacher Jingle’s “over” command. Jingle laid her body over Riley’s lap, and Riley stroked Jingle’s head.
The teacher and I talked about what was going on with her. She’s had an awful week. Missing two weeks of school for the service dog training has taken a bigger toll on her than I anticipated. She kept up with her assignments and finished all her work, but while we were away, they started a big new art project and she is behind. She’s behind in cello. She’s behind in gym class.
As we were talking, Riley continued to stroke Jingle, and the tears finally stopped.
Jingle was afraid again on the stairs as we left. Riley told her softly, “It’s okay, Jingle. It’s okay.”
Jingle is afraid of stairs. Riley is afraid of falling behind.
They’re working through it, together.