This personal account features Rachel Lyons from Ottawa, who resides with her service dog, Geneva. To explore more of CBC’s First Person narratives, please refer to the FAQ section.
Whenever I step into the supermarket, I am immediately confronted with harsh lighting, bustling aisles, and a pressing need to swiftly navigate the overwhelming environment. As someone with disabilities that trigger symptoms such as panic attacks and dizziness, the grocery store poses significant challenges for me.
Accompanied by my service dog, Geneva, sporting his mobility harness emblazoned with “service dog” and “do not distract,” I find solace in his presence as I methodically check off items on my shopping list.
Rachel Lyons credits her service dog, Geneva, with transforming her life. Here’s how.
It’s not uncommon for individuals to approach us with a desire to pet Geneva. Typically, I politely decline, stating, “Please refrain from petting him; he is on duty,” and proceed with my shopping, aided by my noise-canceling headphones that provide a soothing soundtrack for my journey through the store.
However, not all encounters unfold smoothly.
During a previous visit to a grocery store, after requesting a stranger not to pet Geneva, I was taken aback when the same individual appeared behind me, visibly incensed, as I rose from retrieving an item. Startled, I removed my headphones only to be met with a hostile reprimand, accusing me of disrespect and mistreatment for deterring a fellow dog enthusiast.
Feeling trapped in a grocery aisle with an irate stranger was a harrowing experience. I reiterated “goodbye” and “leave me alone” until she eventually departed.
Once the stranger left, I realized I was trembling, with weak legs and a suffocating sensation. Seeking refuge in a quiet corner, I sat on the floor with Geneva nestled on my lap, aiding me through a panic attack by applying pressure and calming my nervous system, one of the techniques he is trained to employ.
It took half an hour before I felt composed enough to stand, thereafter harboring apprehension of encountering the woman again during the remainder of my shopping excursion.
