Hard Working Dog

At my gym, I frequently see an older woman with an assistive device, a dog.  She is not blind, so I assume she has multiple sclerosis or a neurological disorder that causes her to require help.  That help is a butter yellow lab, thick in the middle and solid as an end table. He wears a vest-like harness with a stiff handle on his back, and on both his harness and collar are many warnings to not pet him or distract him since he is a dog at work.

He sits patiently next to the treadmill while the woman walks, exercising the body that is failing her in a way that I can't perceive. When she is through, she stands near a low wall, chatting with a friend.  The dog sits patiently next to her like a husband at the mall, quietly waiting for her to need some assistance.

I pass them while I walk the track, and even though I know I shouldn't, I look him straight in the eye.  He moves his dog eyebrows in greeting, but does not smile because he is working. I want to touch his black nose, plastic and shiny against his thick pale yellow fur. It looks wet, but I bet it is dry and rough. 

I wonder what life is like for him when he is back at her house.  Does he get to take his harness off and unwind, or is his job around the clock for all of his dog years? Does he ever get a chance to be off duty, to happily chew a dried pig's ear or snap at butterflies hovering over a field? Does he sleep on a plaid cushion in front of the fireplace?

And what about his owner? Can she feed him or does he feed himself? Is she able to pour fresh water in his bowl to lap up with his floppy tongue?  Does she scoop up his waste and tie it in a little blue baggy? What happens if he has to go while sitting by her at the bank, the grocery store, or at the gym?

I don't think it would be a bad life for a dog, as some dogs like to feel needed and useful. But this dog looks like he needs the space behind his ears scratched. And knowing that I am not allowed to do it makes me sad for both of us.