Soft brown eyes to see my soul

Her shiny black fur reflects my dreams

For her heart has always loved me

My companion on the journey of life

Written Two Weeks Before The Lights Went Dim

It probably started before Sunday, but that was the day the first real sign something was wrong appeared. She had gone into Adam’s room and had attempted to “do her business”. She’d been trained to go outside. The last time she’d gone in the house, she’d had an infection.

But something about this time made it different. Marchel said he’d keep an eye on her. Maybe he’d simply missed her signals to take her out. But the next day proved worse. Again, she failed to make it outside. Only, it was the other failure that rang the alarm bell. The door to our living area, wide open and in no one’s way, except for Baby, our dog. For some unknown reason, she couldn’t navigate the placement of the door. A near collision ensued. Now was the time. The vet had to be called.

I was in California visiting my sister and my niece. My sister’s cold was taking control of her body, leaving her little energy to tend to her one year old daughter or even think about their impending move from California to Washington. The troops a.k.a. Nanny Karla was called in on short notice to help out. I was supposed to have been there for three weeks, but my brother-in-law’s business trip extended my stay. Without this extension, I would have been home the day before the lights went out.

I talked with Marchel, my boyfriend, every day.

I thought maybe she had a stomach virus, anything that could be easily cured by a round of antibiotics. The reality was such a slap across the face; I lost my breath for a moment.

“I just got back from the vet.”
“And…”
“I don’t have good news.”
“What, what’s wrong?”
“It isn’t life threatening.”
“Am I going to cry?"
”Maybe.”
“Let me go sit down. Okay, I’m ready.”
“Baby’s gone blind.”

With the return of my breath, came the onslaught of tears. How, why, what tumbled out of my mouth. There wasn’t any explanation. The lights had been turned off and they didn’t know why. My dog, my precious companion, had lost her vision. I thought of how scared and confused she must be. I thought of all the things she’d never see again and kicked myself for all the things I should have shown her. I thought of all the things she may never be able to do again, but most of all I thought of how I should have been home to help her through this. To tell her I love her. To pet her, to hug her, to support her as she adjusted to this world of darkness that had been thrust upon her. We didn’t find out till weeks later her blindness was due to S.A.R.D.S. (Suddenly Acquired Retinal Degeneration Syndrome). A condition for which there is no cure, prevention, nor warning.

I couldn’t stand being away from Baby. As I reached my sister’s guest bedroom that evening, I knew sleep would elude me. Images of Baby falling down the stairs at home flickered through my mind’s eye. A gate was put up the next day only she knocked it down. She continued to do her business in the house. Our normally well-behaved dog began to act out, but how do you reprimand a scared and confused pet? Nothing seemed to soothe her now raw nerves. It was still a week before my return home. My stomach was in knots. My skin itself was on edge. I hoped she didn’t think I’d abandoned her.

She was a present for my 20th birthday. Marchel and I were living in Michigan near a large Amish population. A litter of pups had been born in October, fluffy black & white and tan & white pups. I was desperate for a companion. Moving from New Jersey to Michigan proved to be more trying than I’d anticipated. The conservative area with signs touting the sins of abortion and the horrors of hell were a bit of a culture shock. Marchel was working days while I worked nights. My isolation was more than I could bear. I begged to get a dog knowing the cost of buying one was something we couldn’t afford, but I was losing my mind and I knew a dog would help ease my pain. Marchel arrived home one night to say he had a surprise for me. The next day he took me down a winding path to an Amish farmhouse whose yard was littered with pups and one anxious mother dog. The puppies bounded about, playing with each other, the air, themselves and tangling up the feet of the visitors here to choose a new friend. My new friend didn’t wait for me to pick. She made up her mind the minute we put our feet on the grass. Her soft fur wrapped around my ankles as if it stamped me “Property of Baby.” As you can imagine, I was instantly smitten. I casually glanced at the other dogs, but knew my choice had been made. This little one had found its new home.

On the flight back to New Jersey, I thought of her big brown eyes. Most people thought she was a show dog with her prancing gait, black & white markings, and those oh so human eyes. Many a day had passed where we’d simply look at each other and know what was going on. I wondered how we’d adjust our radar.

I was anxious to show Baby nothing had changed, that my love for her was still the same if not more so. I opened the door to our home and saw her try to run towards me. Her tail up, wagging, recognizing my scent. I got down on my knees to hug her. She danced about, licking my face, smelling my clothes and hands, occasionally barking and sneezing. My hands rubbed all over her back, scratching those hard to reach places. If she’d wondered where I had been, she didn’t show it. She was simply happy I was there.

The next few weeks were difficult. Her adjustment (and mine) took time and effort. Her stubborn indifference to Marchel, as if she thought he had taken her sight, did nothing to help. I diligently tried to train her each day for a sightless world. She in turn tried to cling to her independence. Keeping her head from finding sharp points and hard walls were a constant problem. Some days I hid in the bathroom, crying as though a loved one had been lost and not my pet’s vision. Baby may not have been able to see my tears, but I didn’t want her to hear them either.