Illustration by Jasmine Zhang
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There’s a saying that goes “old dogs can’t be taught new tricks.” Well, contrary to the adage, this old dog is learning new tricks from a seven-year-old, blind dog.
Poppy is my daughter’s pet. A DNA test indicates she’s primarily Great Dane. Poppy is tall, gangly, unco-ordinated and often drags her knuckles on walks. She’s a mutt and looks like she was made from spare parts, on a Friday afternoon, just before closing time. This past summer, Poppy went blind, virtually, pardon the expression, in the blink of an eye. A dog ophthalmologist confirmed it’s irreversible.
My wife and I recently cared for Poppy for a month. It was the first time we’ve been with her extensively since she lost her sight. During her stay, I was surprised to discover there’s much I can learn from this sightless dog and how she copes with her disability.
Missing our beloved family dog, who was grumpy to the very end
I am in my 70s. I too have faced and continue to deal with health challenges. Notably, at 38 years old, a life threatening non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma cancer diagnosis, was followed by surgery and six months of chemotherapy. I now have painful osteoarthritis in my hips and knees. And for the past two years plus, have been dealing with Parkinson’s, which is not so slowly robbing me of my independence and good humour
The first thing I learned from Poppy’s journey is acceptance. One might ask what else can the dog do? But apparently dogs facing such a challenge can become depressed and possibly aggressive. Poppy remains her same sweet, gentle self. She is literally smelling the roses.
I too mostly accept my situation but need to work on my tendency to complain and my inclination toward resignation. Yes, in time Parkinson’s will get the better of me. But I can do more to delay its evil clutches by being positive and exercising more. And moaning less about the associated pain and other losses with which I live.
Poppy has proven adaptable. Her navigational skills are inspiring. There are two staircases in my home. Both curve and consist of at least 13 steps. She goes up and down them with remarkable ease, albeit slowly. Apparently, dogs that go blind compensate through more enhanced senses such as hearing, smell and touch. I suspect it’s touch and smell that assists her on the stairs and getting safely about. She can feel the carpeted steps. She uses memory to know where she has trod before to locate her food bowl and bed.
Stairs are becoming a nemesis for me. But like Poppy I am adapting. I continue to slowly and safely scale these domestic mountains. While I’m still fully ambulatory and able to do most day to day activities such as personal care, driving a car and cooking, I am shelving my pride. As balance becomes more of an issue, I resort to walking sticks, particularly when bending over for dog cleanup duties. And when I require help, I now ask with less embarrassment. Recently I was trying to replace a broken toilet seat. When that proved too much for my shaky hands, I called in the son-in-law.
Our home isn’t exactly set up for the blind. Big pieces of furniture remain in place but there’s always clutter, presenting even a challenge to me. Currently there’s a rolled-up carpet in a hallway and boxes in another, which require disposing. But Poppy, nose a twitching, somehow senses them, mostly. And when she does bump into something, which is heartbreaking, she always does it with dignity, no cursing, just a dog-with-a-bone determination. Note to self: cut down on the swearing. Keep moving forward.
I learned that you get the dog you need, not the one you want
Poppy still delights in cuddles though she’s no lap dog. Her tail wags at her every day meal of dry kibble. Walks are spent using an inordinate amount of time sniffing every blade of grass. She can laser in on passing dogs well before any contact. Poppy listens and responds to commands “step up, step down, tree, big mail box.” She trusts in the routine.
So I have to remind myself, I too have much to be joyful about. I remain relatively independent. Tomorrow, who knows? And I have four grandchildren all under the age of four who are a hoot and supposedly will keep me young and fit. Although, after an extensive visit, I question the wisdom of the person who coined that saying. I am trying to be less frustrated. I am trying rationally to be more Poppy-like, grateful for what I do have and not dwelling on what I am losing.
It’s ironic, when Poppy came to spend a month in my home, it was I who presumed to be looking after her. In reality it was the reverse. Now, much of how I view what’s ahead in my Parkinson’s journey is coloured for the better through the lens of a blind dog.
Ken Myron lives in Hamilton, Ont.