Who Will Follow Me Into The Dark?
Chloe stepped forward and bravely wagged her tail.
I am alone in my “going blind” journey. I don’t know blind people. I don’t really have a blind support group. Immaculate degeneration, diabetes, optic neuritis, cataracts…none of these diagnoses run in my family.
I live in a small town of about 7,000 people. In that population, I have heard of 2 other people who are having blindness issues. One is a 4-year-old who will probably never get the help he deserves unless his family leaves this small community and searches for a more populated, more blind-aware community. The other is an adult who may or may not still be living here. We never met. Around here, people don’t know what to do with a blind person. Since I did not start going blind until I was 32, I, myself, am also trying to figure out how to be a blind person.
Then I took my dog to the vet. Her visit was to medicate her constant ear infections which she has again — in her left ear only this time — thank goodness. Our vet is a lovely man, however, and gave Chloe Rose a full physical as well. He stared deep into her eyes a long time.
“She has the tiniest of cataracts beginning in her eyes,” he reported.
I was speechless.
My dog. My hound dog. The only girl dog out of the 5 dogs I have ever owned. The dog who won’t let anyone near me until she is sure they are friend and not foe of any kind. My obnoxious, crazy, loyal, attention-hogging, ridiculous chunky 10-year-old who still thinks she is a puppy is going blind with me.
I was touched and a bit teary-eyed. Ah, the strange ways a dog is willing to show love to her person. I bent down to Chloe’s level and scritched the top of her head.
I whispered into her good ear, not the ear stuffed with antibiotics. “I already know you are the best dog,” I said. “You don’t need to follow me into the dark, but thank you, dear friend.”
I am now researching cataracts in doggies. I don’t feel quite so alone anymore.
