Obi Personal Log Aged One and Eleven Twelfths: The Powered Chair Bites The Dust

To say I was sceptical about the new powered chair was an understatement.  I’ve only just got used to the two speeds of the old one.  Slow and stop.  The new one delighted Mum.  I have to say it looks good and I enjoyed walking at a decent speed, but it was weird to be walking alongside a machine that so didn’t smell right.
The new powered chair is being picked up on Saturday.  It has the wrong seat on it and the base is too wide to go through a standard 30″ door.  Mum has been very upset.  I was allowed on the bed to comfort her.  This is not allowed in guide dog best behaviour but this was an emergency.  She was calmer with me laying with her.  It’s hard for me to understand, of course, but for Mum the chair was a delight until she discovered she couldn’t use it at home!  It is an extension of her body.  It represents her independence and freedom.  I guess my equivalent is a tennis ball.
What’s happened smells bad to me.  If you were getting a guide dog for example, you don’t have to try out absolutely everything he or she can do before you buy him.  All new guide dog owners take some things on trust.  Same, I’m assuming, if you buy a human bean car.  You don’t have to try it on every kind of road before you buy.  You trust the salesperson has given you a great deal of accurate information.  I think Mum was right.  She was sold the wrong machine.  She couldn’t have gone into more detail about what she needed.  The fault was with sales.
Believe me, my Mum on the rampage is not a pretty sight.  I’m minded of a terrier with a bone.  I wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end I can tell you.  Respect.
Chair is being collected on Saturday.   Back to guiding the tortoise wheelchair Dimbleby until further notice.  I think I’m as mortified as she is.  More so.  She’s mine.  My Mum.  No one upsets my Mum when I’m about.  Trust me on that.

Now we will have to shop for a new one.  I’m up for this.  We start on Monday.

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