Ritchie Guide Dog proudly trotted down the boarding bridge and onto the aircraft. He soon settled down to start the long trip across the Pacific back to Canada. He had just completed ten days of work in Japan. As the plane lifted off the runway at Narita Airport, Ritchie began reflecting on his professional successes as “moto ken,” the Japanese equivalent to “guide dog.”
It took a lot of planning to travel to Japan. The Assistance Dog Act came into full effect in Japan a year ago, passed unanimously by the National Diet (Japan’s legislature) to allow persons with disabilities to be accompanied by assistance dogs in all public places. But the law did not take into account that guide dog teams might come from abroad. The act’s definition of a guide dog team stipulates that the team must be trained by an authorized Japanese organization. Thus, in the strictest sense, the law does not apply to animals trained outside of Japan.
We contacted someone involved with guide dog training in Japan. He offered a creative solution and helped make it work. He arranged for Ritchie Guide Dog to be issued a Japanese service animal license – once training and health information had been submitted to the Japanese Guide Dog Association (JGDA). We could then claim the same rights as Japanese guide dog users, following completion of the quarantine formalities.
We sent the information before leaving Canada. A representative from the association met us at the airport and gave us our Japanese Guide Dog Certification document in a bright yellow pouch that was attached to the white guide dog harness.
Ritchie Guide Dog wore this license on his harness throughout his time in Japan. It really helped with access. Officials at the entrances to railway stations, hotels and tourist attractions were reassured by the license and welcomed Ritchie as a transplanted Japanese working animal. At the Hamamatsu Castle entrance, the explanation that Ritchie was a moto ken gained us free entrance while everyone else paid a fee. Ritchie marched up all the steps to the top of this feudal castle to sniff the air of success, high above the treetops of the surrounding gardens and park.
Another hurdle was the two-week animal quarantine required upon entering Japan. The Animal Quarantine Service (AQS) has strict restrictions for dogs. There are no provisions for guide dogs; a dog with skills is still a dog. When we found this out, it looked like the trip had ended before it had begun. I was to attend a world congress on accessible transportation and would be making a presentation, helping to staff the Canada booth and learning about Japanese successes. Ritchie could not do his job under the restrictions outlined by the AQS, which included such terms as “keep the dog isolated completely… from people and other animals.”
In addition, part of the quarantine enforcement regulation stated: “If you cannot follow the terms or directions or you cannot continue the custody for other reasons… we will revoke this permission and take the dog into custody at our facility.” This final condition was scary. I had visions of both of us sleeping in a kennel together – our human/animal bonding means that any separation is strongly resisted.
Fortunately, with the help of the Canadian embassy, the quarantine requirements were adjusted to allow Ritchie to do his work. Upon arrival, there would be an inspection at the quarantine station in the airport terminal building. There was to be a secondary inspection at the conference hotel. However, at arrival, the animal would not have had an opportunity to relieve himself for at least 13 hours. It would be important to give him this opportunity as soon as possible. Once this bodily need had been taken care of, then the guide dog team could proceed through the required remaining formalities – in comfort.
We had a message sent ahead from the plane reminding ground staff at the Narita Airport that Ritchie had a bodily need and it would be helpful to have it met as soon as possible after the 13-hour trip. The message was misinterpreted. We were met by a lady who thought that the human member of the guide dog team needed to go to the bathroom because he could not use the airplane washroom. So Ritchie had to work in the terminal, through human formalities, and then walk to the quarantine inspection office on the sixth floor.
Once there, he was offered a large shower-like basin to relieve himself in, in an examination room filled with steel tables. The big stall was raised above the floor and surrounded by a raised border, which he was expected to hop over. This arrangement did not work. Fortunately, the representative from the Japanese Guide Dog Association arrived and helped all understand that Ritchie had been trained to adhere to a relieving regime. Then it was back on the elevator and down six floors. The JGDA rep accompanied us to a nice piece of grass, where all went the way for which Ritchie had been trained.
In less than five minutes we were back, and patiently waited for all the paperwork to be completed. Daily observations had to be taken and reported in Ritchie’s official health record. Hotel room plans had to be submitted for review, as this would be his place of quarantine. Our hotel rooms, including one on the 33rd floor, were actually inspected to ensure that no unauthorized contact with the local wildlife could occur!
Once Ritchie cleared the formalities and got down to work, he settled in better than most humans visiting Japan. Jetlag was not an issue for him. He slept when he could, day or night. Grass is grass, streets are streets, steps are steps and doors are doors, whether in Canada or Japan. He hunkered down and did his job. He treated the new environment and smells simply as distractions to be coped with. Ritchie Guide Dog even did some tasks for the first time, such as walking on moving sidewalks. After all, Ritchie Dog has been trained to be highly adaptable. He spends his working life adjusting to new and strange obstacles to be navigated around or through.
In fact, after the eleven-hour flight, while Ritchie was refreshed and raring to go following his long sleep, we jet-weary passengers stumbled off the plane in search of rest.
But when we entered the airport hotel room, I promptly waged a battle with the high-tech toilet – and the toilet was clearly the winner.
The first shock was the toilet seat. In better establishments in Japan, the toilet seats are warmed for the comfort of users. Bum burn, not sun burn, became a concern, as the seat was a little too hot.
Then it was time to flush the toilet. There were numerous buttons on a control panel. It didn’t help that they were labelled in Japanese Braille. Tactile raised symbols are not used in Japan, because of the complexity of the writing characters. So there was nothing do but to start pushing buttons and see what happened. Suddenly, the toilet shot back, drenching me with a strong jet of clean water as I leaned over the infernal contraption. This was intended for washing while seated on the throne. Now I was soaking wet, and with only one lever yet to push, I pushed it. As the toilet flushed, I retreated to dry my wounded dignity.
Even the accessible toilets at the conference facility did not operate in a way we were used to. It took some discussion and interpretation to get the hang of their operation. Pushing the wrong button on the wall activated an alarm for the emergency response of the attendant team – with accompanying noise.
In Japan, there are two types of public restrooms, commonly labelled “western toilets” and “Japanese toilets” on their entrances. The traditional seatless, squat-type Japanese lavatory is still widely found. If using public toilets, it is recommended to bring a packet of tissue paper.
All Ritchie needed was some green grass. He found a nice park across the street from the conference hotel with many small grassy, rectangular, decorative plots. They worked fine. No worries about the right toilet for him.
The furniture in Japan is a bit lower than in Canada. Getting up from beds and chairs required the use of muscles not regularly called on in Canada. While I had sore muscles from adjusting to the beds and chairs, Ritchie dog had no such trouble using his four legs to lie down or get up from carpets, as they are always the right height for him anywhere in the world.
Diet was not an issue either. Ritchie travels with meal packs prepared in advance at home. So, the suitcase is heavy on the way out with all his meal packs, and on the way home there is room for souvenirs. Ritchie always knows what is on the menu and where to find his next meal. People, on the other hand, had lots of choices at each meal. Japanese eating establishments have pictures of their dishes in the display windows at the entrance. Ritchie just slept under yet another table as all the rest of us tried to figure out what to eat. A meal of rice and pork at a small family restaurant was enjoyable. Japanese restaurants tend to specialize. Among the most common specialties are sushi, unagi (eel) and soba (buckwheat noodles). Ramen-ya served ramen (egg noodles) in hot broth with vegetables and meat, and traditional restaurants served kaiseki-ryori (Japanese haute cuisine).
Navigation in the “land of the rising sun” was very easy, as Ritchie and I found we could work together like nowhere else in the world. Musical tones helped all people, including people who are blind, to locate entrances to large buildings. Being able to give Ritchie directions (left, right) relieved the stress of trying to distinguish doors from windows. Walking down streets was also easier, as a bright yellow, tactile strip ran down the centre of sidewalks for use by people who are blind. This yellow trail branched off to lead to building entrances and intersection curbs. This was particularly helpful for humans finding crosswalks at T intersections.
These tactile trails were also used very effectively inside large buildings, such as railway stations and airport terminals. They were very useful in traversing large open areas, such as lobbies, where there are few sound cues for directional orientation. Larger rectangular tactile areas denoted entrances. Tactile trails led from entrances to information desks, which made obtaining assistance quite easy.
This was just one of many universal design measures implemented to help everyone. There were visual and audible indicators at all lighted intersections. There were zebra-style white markings at all crosswalks for added pedestrian safety. Sidewalks were spotlessly clean and free from obstacles such as sandwich boards and newspaper dispensers. (There were also few garbage cans around – we surmised that people were expected to take their garbage home with them.) Many pedestrians smoked, but they carried little ashtrays and butt disposal containers in order to take the residue home for disposal.
Bus stops and arriving buses were announced. Since the announcements were in Japanese, we could only marvel on their usefulness. This audio and visual announcement feature was made possible in part by a very strict adherence to timetables. Public transportation left on time and ran on time. This cultural practice of being on time was very beneficial at the conference we attended, as it meant that all speeches ended on time as well.
All announcements, particularly on high-speed trains and subway cars, were preceded by a musical tone to attract attention. This was particularly helpful, as it drew passengers’ attention in time to actually hear the beginning of the announcement. Having an upcoming stop announced in advance helped people with vision disabilities prepare themselves to disembark safely, as opposed to in a panicked rush after the vehicle had arrived. Most subway and train coaches had visual maps showing where the train was, what the next stop was and how long before arrival.
We participated in a very interesting technical tour of accessibility features in the Tokyo transportation network. Of particular interest were an escalator that could accommodate a person using a wheelchair, and tactile markings throughout major transportation terminals. We used the Tokyo subway extensively, including one journey during which we passed 29 stops before reaching our destination.
When we arrived at the conference, everyone watched Ritchie work. Gradually, his professionalism was accepted. People stopped warning us when we approached obstacles. Ritchie passed from being a curiosity to just another participant at the conference. He worked to and from meeting rooms and to events such as a Japanese drum ceremony and gala evening. Ritchie even found the way to the podium at the closing ceremony so that, along with a colleague, we could accept the award for best paper at the conference, which we had co-authored.
Then it was time to return home to Canada. There would be fewer formalities and challenges to gain admittance back into our country. The Canadian Food Inspection Agency, which controls the movement of animals, has a specific provision to facilitate the travel of working animals. Ritchie Guide Dog was not subject to any restrictions upon returning to Canada. After another long, in-flight nap, this moto ken was soon back at work – but on home turf this time.
Chris Stark lives and works in Ottawa, Ontario.