Photo description: Finn, Golden Retriever, 5-yrs-old, off duty and relaxing on a wood porch.

YAWN. 

I get it, Finn. I’m nervous too. Stay calm. (I fidget with my cane)

Finn YAWNS again and sidles closer. 

I know! Should I be rude and curt? Condescending in hopes of shaming? Teacher/educator mode? I just want to shop without notice like every other person in this store!

Finn YAWNS and does a slight eye roll. With him as my shopping buddy I can’t very well go unnoticed.

Finn is my 3^rd service dog. Like anything I take on, when I chose to be partnered with a service dog to help mitigate my disabilities, I learned all I could about dog behavior, training, and service-dog work. A dog yawning is a very specific kind of “dog language”. Turid Rugaas (2013) explains that when a dog yawns, the dog is signaling that it is nervous, anxious, or excited. Finn and I were silently communicating unease at having been stopped and engaged even though all of MY body language said, “stay clear, I’m doing fine on my own”. 

“Dogs yawn when they are slightly stressed by something in the environment. It can be something very simple, such as a dog or person passing by a little too closely. Dogs often yawn when they are feeling like they have to “perform” in some way. Dogs yawn often when they feel confused or frustrated by the current situation” (Aloff, 2007, p. 90). Finn was not comfortable because I wasn’t comfortable. Being my partner for five years, he knew that I was not happy this person had stopped me in Costco to talk about my disabilities and service dog. With only one hand on the cart (the other holding Finn’s leash), I automatically wobble more than I would if both hands were on the cart. Because of my wobbles, my cane, hooked for easy access on the cart handle, is banging against the side of the cart. I’m sure my voice is tense. I’m unhappy. Finn YAWNS.

I’m unhappy because someone is trying to be nice. 

You read that right.

Out of the kindness of their own heart, a total stranger asked if they could help me in the store. My cart has 7 or 8 items in it already. It’s obvious I didn’t need their help to shop thus far. I assure them I am fine and “thank them for asking”. They ask about Finn, who is now on his 5^th YAWN. His vest says, “Please ask to pet me” on the side. 

This very KIND person asks, “May I pet him? What’s his name?” I reply (with kindness) my rehearsed response:

“I don’t mind if people pet him if I’m seated. Since I am not, it would be better for you just to ignore him.”

The kind person looked around and even stepped to the side to look down a long aisle with cooking utensils. “I don’t see any chairs”.

Oh because everything about me tells you I want to sit so you can pet my service dog and take even more of my time?

Instead I say, “Well I am shopping right now and we need to keep going. I tend to run out of energy fairly quickly so we need to finish up”. 

The kind person looks slightly affronted and says, “OK. I was only trying to help!” 

AND… There lies the conundrum.

Kindness is complicated. I truly believe people mean well. Perhaps if I were not differently-abled, I would make the same mistakes. Good hearted people want to help someone, especially if it looks like they are struggling. (By the way, I was doing great before being stopped and actually struggled more after having to engage – hence Finn’s YAWN.) 

As a former teacher, I’m all about advocating through education and information. However, there is a time and place for everything. Like most people with disabilities, if I need help I will ask for it. This is something you learn to do if you’ve lived with disabilities for some time. My service dog, cochlear implant, and cane can help me do most things independently. There are times, however, where I need some assistance. I will ask for it. I’ve never been turned down and I’m 57 y’all! That’s a lot of years of having to occasionally ask for assistance! Sometimes automatic doors will not work. Sometimes a dropped item is too big or too heavy for Finn to pick up. I will ask for help. I appreciate all the kind people but enough already. Rebekah Taussig (2020) said it best:

I am a magnet for kindness. Like the center of a black hole, my body attracts every good deed from across the expanse of the universe to the foot of my wheelchair. I move through parking lots and malls, farmers’ markets and airports, bookstores and buffets, and people scramble to my aid. They open doors and reach out their arms to help, they offer prayers, grab my handlebars for a push, watch over me, and hold out wads of cash (p. 167).

People trying to be kind can be authentic. They noticed me and really do want to help. It can also be someone who is curious and wants to learn more. Maybe they know someone with a mobility challenge and want to learn how they can best help? As Rebekah states, folk’s attempts at being kind can “be anything from healing to humiliating, helpful to traumatic. It’s complicated” (Taussig (2020, p. 169).

I’ve come home from Costco trips determined to be an online shopper. I’ve also come home and thought about what a positive shopping trip that was after asking a stranger for help when Finn’s leash snagged on a pallet at a Target we were at and I could not yank it free. I tried to free it myself for a few minutes and then caught the eye of someone nearby and said, “Would you mind freeing Finn’s leash for me?” A dozen or so people bumped heads trying to be first in line to free that leash! (Yeah, that was a slight exaggeration). After freeing us up, I went on about my business as did the kind “helper”. 

Kindness is complicated. Please don’t misunderstand. Kindness is wonderful. We NEED MORE KIND PEOPLE. The world NEEDS MORE KIND PEOPLE. Just use “intelligent kindness”. Does the person you want to help look as if they need it, as if they want it?

If you are person with a disability? Don’t struggle with something you cannot do on your own and then beret everyone around for not helping. If you need help, ASK.

L. Denise Portis, Ph.D.

© 2023 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

Aloff, B. (2007). Canine body language: A photographic guide. Interpreting the native language of the domestic dog. Dogwise Publishing. 

Rugaas, T. (2013). Calming signals—The art of survival. Turid Rugaas—International Dog Trainer: International Dog Trainer Education. Retrieved October 26, 2023 from http://en.turid-rugaas.no/calming-signals—the-art-of-survival.html

Taussig, R. (2020). Sitting pretty: The view from my ordinary resilient disabled body. Harper Collins Publisher.