There is a certain amount of isolation that comes from living life on wheels instead of feet. The chair has become an extenison of self over the years so much so that some who didnt know my name in school would refer to me as the kid in the chair...
that is just some back ground into my life i am not writing this for a pity party to feel sorry for "wheels148" I am merely writing this because for years I have researched the possibility of getting a service dog. you see my current manual chair's configuration prevents me from being able to pick stuff up off the floor i struggle with other stuff that I care not to mention at this time but mom thinks i am far to independant to require one so i am like in a jam untill i move out I guess. I wish I could get a working dog because it would open up my world socially
any ideas on convincing my family