Service dogs, let me tell you, are the unsung heroes of the modern world. Sure, we’ve got firefighters saving cats from trees and doctors patching up the clumsy among us, but service dogs? They’re out here saving lives, keeping their humans sane, and frankly, surviving the chaos of society with remarkable patience. My service dog, bless her furry little soul, is not a therapy dog, nor an emotional support animal. She’s not here for cuddles, though she’s exceptionally good at them; she’s here for work. And let me just say, the things we service dog handlers run into on a daily basis are enough to make us want to crawl into a blanket fort and never come out again.

First off, let’s clear something up about Canada. Emotional support animals, contrary to popular belief, are not a thing here. Well, okay, they are a thing, but only in rental situations. If your landlord has a heart and a soul, you can argue for it but who wants to be in a place where the landlord says no and is forced. It never goes well. But public access? Nada. Zilch. Zero. Emotional support animals are basically the ghost of the pet world. Try to take one into a grocery store and watch the chaos unfold. My service dog, on the other hand, has full public access because she’s classified as a medical device. That’s right—she’s practically an extension of my person. Like a pacemaker, but fluffier and far more opinionated about squirrels.

Now, here’s the thing: I know she’s adorable. She’s got those big, soulful eyes that scream “love me,” and trust me, she loves you too. But please, for the love of all that is good and holy, pretend you don’t see her. She’s got a very important job to do, and that job does not include entertaining your kiddos while I’m trying to buy milk and bread. I get it—kids are curious, and who wouldn’t want to pet the cute dog? But sometimes, I just want to get in and out of the store without turning it into a meet-and-greet event. She’s not Samuel L Mother Fucking Jackson; she doesn’t need an entourage. Adults, this goes for you to, I am going to be far less patient when you come up to her then I am with kids. Though I do enjoy turning the kiddos into broken records going “did you know service dogs are medicine, it is not good to touch them it can hurt people”. Remember kids love repeating stuff for days, and I will do this and it will get drilled into the head of many adults and kids because they love this analogy.

The preparation that goes into merely leaving the house with a service dog is a whole production. First, there’s the gearing up. Her vest, her harness, the “please don’t touch me, I’m working” patches plastered all over her—a fashion statement, really. Then there’s the walk beforehand so she can go potty. Because heaven forbid she has to go while we’re out, and I’m stuck awkwardly holding a baggie while trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. All these little steps add up, and by the time I’m finally in the store, I’m already well on my way to wanting a nap. And then someone inevitably tries to distract her, which leads me to my next point.

Imagine if someone randomly walked up to you and started poking your insulin pump without permission. You’d be mortified, right? Well, guess what? The same applies to my service dog. She’s classified as a medical device, which means touching her without my consent is technically assault. I don’t care if your intent was pure and wholesome; the fact remains that she’s part of my person and she’s there to do a job—a job that could save my life. When she’s distracted, she can’t alert me to my hypoglycemia, which, let me tell you, is not a party. It’s not even the kind of boring party with bad appetizers; it’s the “you might die” kind of party, and I’m not here for it.

Hypoglycemia is bad enough, but hypoglycemia unawareness? That’s a whole other beast. Most people get symptoms when their blood sugar drops—shakiness, sweating, irritability, the usual suspects. Me? I’m cruising down the highway of low blood sugar without any warning signs until I’m in the “why aren’t you unconscious yet?” zone. It’s like playing Russian roulette, except the gun is my pancreas and the stakes are my organs deciding to shut down. My service dog alerts me before things get critical, and for that, she deserves a gold medal, a lifetime supply of treats, and maybe a statue in her honor. Now to stay safe as a driver I do tend to drink watered down juice and sip on it through my drive so that I don’t go that low because I don’t want to kill people.

But she doesn’t stop there. Oh no, my little overachiever is cross-trained for other tasks. She handles my PTSD, AuDHD, and anxiety like a pro, and honestly, she’s probably more qualified than some therapists. She grounds me when my thoughts start spiraling, she interrupts harmful behaviors, and she even helps me navigate the sensory overload of a world that’s far too loud, too bright, and too chaotic. She’s like a fluffy Swiss Army knife, and I don’t know how I’d survive without her. Oh, let’s not forget she also will get me to a safe place if I am overloading. All I need to do is follow her tail. Don’t touch her, she is working.

Yet despite all this, there’s still a shocking lack of awareness about service dogs and the boundaries that come with them. People assume they’re glorified pets or emotional support animals, and while I could write a novel about the difference, let’s just say this: my service dog isn’t here for your entertainment. I shouldn’t have to explain why she needs to focus or why it’s inappropriate to touch her. She’s doing a job—a job that, quite literally, keeps me alive and functioning. So next time you see a service dog, do us all a favor and pretend they’re invisible. Because trust me, the chaos of everyday life is already more than enough without adding unsolicited distractions into the mix. Oh and if you start asking me why I need her, besides the fact that my medical information is none of your business I am going to embarrass the hell out of you by asking if you need Viagra and what for, or women, what birth control pill are you on, why aren’t you on it? It is just as invasive when you ask me why I need my medical device.

Service dogs are incredible creatures, but the challenges we face as their handlers. Those are a whole different story. From gearing up to navigating public spaces to dealing with the occasional clueless stranger, it’s a rollercoaster ride with more twists and turns than I signed up for. But at the end of the day, I wouldn’t trade my service dog for anything. She’s my lifeline, my rock, and, occasionally, my therapist. Just don’t ask her to chase a squirrel while she’s working.