Blind Hope: An Unwanted Dog & the Woman She Rescued Read online

  “Humans have so many shallow ideas of love. If things aren’t pretty and perfect, we start looking elsewhere. Dogs don’t do that. They possess a level of loyalty that most people will never fully understand. I sure didn’t. It took a dog to teach me that authentic love, a love that connects hearts—even imperfect hearts—does exist.”

  Laurie’s eyes sparkled.

  “What else?” I asked, wanting to throw more fuel on her already blazing fire.

  She picked up her bowl and, without taking a bite, plunged ahead. “Most of us have experienced love that walks away for something better when the imperfections become unbearable. But love that binds hearts and stands firm, no matter what comes, is genuine. The best part is that anyone can find it! Mia showed me this truth because she was unlovable by many people’s standards, including my own shallow ideals, when I first met her. But now that I know her, I love her, authentically and unchangeably.”

  Laurie leaned forward. “Unlike many of my two-legged acquaintances, Mia didn’t demand that I change to fit into her mold of what a real friend should be. She demonstrates that she loves me just as I am, faults and all. No matter how badly I fail her, her love never fails me. She always gives me her very best. There’s nothing I can do to stop her from wanting to be with me. She’s showing me the way of sincere love. I think my new challenge is to follow her example.”

  Love is a bridge that stands firm through difficulties and connects one heart directly to another, not because of how it looks, but because of what it is.

  I picked up my Mason jar of water and tipped it in Laurie’s direction in a redneck toast. “To lessons of love!”

  Laurie smiled and lifted her jar to join mine. “Hear, hear!” She laughed and celebrated the moment with me by chugging a mouthful of water, then lowered her jar. “Plain and simple, my little dog has consistently demonstrated how love is a bridge that stands firm through difficulties and connects one heart directly to another, not because of how it looks, but because of what it is.”

  Mia was not only thin, she was also sick. Besides the obvious issues of her weight, coat, and teeth, other health problems plagued her. After checking with various veterinary sources, Laurie took Mia to the Redmond Veterinary Clinic to clarify the cause of her dog’s mysterious symptoms. Laurie followed the new veterinarian’s recommendation and scheduled Mia to spend an entire day at the hospital for the most comprehensive exam they could give her.

  A month later, Laurie and I had a chance to catch up on each other’s lives while driving together in my black truck to a local feed store. It was then that she told me about the follow-up appointment at the veterinary clinic to find out what was troubling her dog.

  “In the waiting room, I felt like a little kid in a Norman Rockwell painting, seated on a bench with my dog at my feet. I then sat in a cheerful exam room while Mia sprawled out on the shiny floor next to me. The entire clinic smelled like strong antiseptic, and the walls were covered with informational charts and encouraging sayings. On the counter in the exam room were lots of glass jars filled with all kinds of medical supplies. One jar especially caught my eye; it was filled with dog treats. I wondered if they had a jar filled with people treats too.”

  Laughing, I said, “I’m going to talk to them about that. I think they need a bucket full of M&M’S!”

  “You’re right! Or at least a jug of Starbucks!”

  We gave each other a rancher high-five across the cab of my truck.

  Antics aside, Laurie said, “When Dr. Shawn breezed into the room, his bright, upbeat demeanor couldn’t conceal the fact that he was about to give me some very bad news.”

  My heart sank. Dr. Shawn was one of the primary vets for our ranch and also a dear friend, and I knew that expression all too well. In more than a dozen years of working with our rescued horses, some critically ill, Dr. Shawn has had plenty of opportunities to use the same expression with me. I’ve come to recognize it as his “This isn’t going to be easy news to receive, so I will deliver it with as much optimism as I can” expression. Nevertheless, I love Dr. Shawn and learned long ago to rely on his counsel.

  Laurie took a deep breath, and I knew she was steeling herself to describe what followed.

  Dr. Shawn began with a smile. “Mia has not been spayed.”

  Laurie smiled back, puzzled by his comment. The previous owner had told her that Mia had been spayed.

  “You’ll need to make an appointment to have her spayed as soon as you can fit it into your schedule.”

  Laurie nodded. “Okay.”

  “And Mia has some extensive dental decay that will require several extractions followed by a good teeth cleaning.”

  Laurie had expected that news, but she was surprised that Mia’s tooth damage was so pervasive. Mia was also going to require an expensive brand of dog food. Laurie listened as the list grew.

  “In addition, Mia is going to need insulin injections twice a day.”

  “What do you mean? Insulin? Why would she need insulin?”

  “Mia is suffering from an aggressive form of canine diabetes.”

  Each piece of news landed like a boulder on Laurie’s heart.

  “Laurie, her diabetes is severe. Mia’s developing cataracts, and she’s in the process of going blind.”

  “Blind? What? My dog is going blind?” Laurie’s heart hadn’t recovered from that boulder when the next giants began to fall.

  Each piece of news landed like a boulder on Laurie’s heart.

  “Yes, Mia is going blind. As pressure continues to build in her eyes, there’s a strong possibility she will also need, at some point, to have her eyes removed.”

  Laurie’s jaw dropped as she looked up into the vet’s face.

  “There’s more,” Dr. Shawn said.

  No, no, no more! Please, God, no more. The voice in her heart begged like a pleading child.

  Dr. Shawn’s voice was gentle. “Mia’s blood work and glucose curves are … well, compelling.”

  Laurie’s throat tightened. No! Please, no … Don’t use that tone.

  The vet’s voice softened noticeably. “It might not be for a while, perhaps months or even years, but her test results are conclusive. Mia … is dying.”

  Laurie sat paralyzed, helpless against an unstoppable rush of tears. Why God? Why? Why would you allow me to fall in love with her only to take her away?

  Laurie’s face dropped into her hands in an effort to stop the sobs that began churning out of her chest. Crushed by an avalanche of sudden grief, Laurie felt like she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All she could do was give in to the overwhelming weight of sorrow.

  None of the jars on the counter held a cure for her breaking heart.

  Dr. Shawn assured Laurie that just as with people, diabetes is serious but treatable. Mia could still have several years with a good quality of life.

  “Just because Mia has a grave illness doesn’t necessarily mean she should be put down immediately. Unless, of course, she develops signs of suffering. Or if you don’t wish to pay for her continued care or be committed to administering insulin to her on a regimented basis.”

  Laurie took a deep breath. Through her tears the answer came without hesitation. “I have to try.”

  Her mind reeled in a myriad of directions. “If Mia is going blind, she’ll run into things. Wouldn’t that be considered pain and suffering?”

  Dr. Shawn reassured Laurie with a gentle smile. “Blind people bump into things all the time. That’s how they learn to adjust to their environment.” His smile broadened. “I may be going out on a limb here, but I’m pretty sure they’re okay with not being euthanized even though they bump their forehead or split their lip from time to time.”

  Laurie relaxed. The message was loud and clear. Together, she and Dr. Shawn would seek the very best care for Mia; each would keep a watchful eye on her and monitor her progress. As long as Mia maintained a healthy and happy life, all would be well.

  Dr. Shawn and Laurie ag
reed on a mutual strategy that would provide the best life possible for her dog. Laurie could foresee a time when what would be best for her might not be best for her dog. She didn’t want that responsibility to reside solely on her emotional fortitude, so she asked Dr. Shawn to guide her in making an informed decision when that time came.

  Please, God, show me how to do this. Show me how to take care of my precious girl.

  They concurred that once Mia showed signs of untreatable pain, that would be the time to humanely end her life. As much as Laurie might wish for her precious companion to be with her always, she would not choose for her dog to suffer needlessly to satisfy her own selfish heart.

  Laurie left the office armed with as much information as Dr. Shawn could give her. One thing was clear: Mia’s diabetes would kill her eventually.

  Please, God, show me how to do this. Show me how to take care of my precious girl so that our days together might be long.

  Even though Dr. Shawn had warned Laurie that the process of stabilizing insulin levels could sometimes be tumultuous, the month that followed was frightening. Finding the precise level of medication proved challenging for both woman and dog. Finally, after many glucose curves and daily observations, Laurie found a system that seemed to keep Mia balanced and healthy.

  Laurie devoured information about canine diabetes and trained herself to know when Mia had too much insulin or not quite enough. She learned how to monitor her dog’s levels of exercise and even how to handle a crash when Mia’s insulin levels were too low.

  Through it all, Mia remained steadfast in optimism. She never acted frustrated or grumpy about her ongoing treatments. She appeared to take all her new hardships in stride. Every moment in her life was a gift, and she seemed to know it.

  Finally, after spaying, dental work, and the removal of her hemorrhaging left eye, Mia began to thrive under her loving master’s care. The once ragged and forsaken little dog Laurie had brought home only months before had transformed into a beautiful, glossy-coated friend of her soul.

  Laurie remained true to the feeding schedule Dr. Shawn had laid out for her, and Mia mimicked The Little Engine That Could and gained an impressive twenty pounds. Oftentimes Laurie looked at her courageous dog in complete wonder and tried to comprehend how so much energy could fit into such a small and broken body. Mia proved daily just how resilient a happy heart could be.

  Laurie smiled at me across the cab of my truck. “I think this whole episode with Dr. Shawn and all that Mia has endured is teaching me that what I once thought was impossible isn’t. For so long, my first response to hard things was to simply run away from them. Because of Mia, I can see that by persevering, by really holding on, so much more is possible.”

  I nodded. “Someone recently told me that you should work like your dreams depend on you … and pray like they depend on God.”

  Laurie beamed. “Yes! I’m beginning to understand what that actually means.”

  Time dealt its ruthless hand just as Dr. Shawn had predicted with his bleak diagnosis: Mia was going blind. After the removal of her left eye, a massive cataract formed in her right eye, almost blocking what little vision she had left. It was difficult for Laurie to watch her girl slip into a world of darkness, but she found encouragement, hope, and bravery in an unlikely source—Mia herself.

  Quite simply, Mia never gave up. She possessed an uncanny ability to keep bounding forward. Waking up to a new day was reason enough to drum her tail against the floor. When Mia sensed that Laurie was awake, she greeted her with good morning kisses all over her hands, asking to come up on the bed for her daily cuddles. True to her canine nature, Mia still begged for treats as often as she believed she could gain one. Life was good.

  The games they played together changed, but not the fun. Laurie took advantage of open grassy areas to play a blind dog’s version of hide-and-seek, with Laurie dancing around her dog and whistling. Mia would respond by leaping after her in large, crazy patterns. Another favorite was when Laurie would slap the ground around her dog’s feet. Mia would bite at the ground and try to catch her master’s hands with her paws. The grand finale would come when Mia turned onto her back and Laurie would gently wrestle with her. Mia would grab Laurie’s wrists in her toothy grin and roll around in pure elation.

  Mia could always be counted on for one of the biggest dog smiles of the day when Laurie would release her from the leash during their walks. Gripped by the anticipation of being free, Mia would circle tightly while wildly wagging her tail. With her head lifted and mouth open, she would make sure that her master saw the size of her big smile.

  Mia’s intense love of freedom posed an obvious and paradoxical problem for both owner and pet. Her birthright and design dictated that she be a high-energy dog. From Mia’s perspective, submitting to a tether constituted her idea of prison and just didn’t make sense.

  Yet Laurie’s perspective as her caretaker and protector was vastly different. Because of Laurie’s love for her dog, it was her job to keep Mia safe, to shelter her from harm. Laurie was to be her guard, her eyes. In a world that was best for Laurie, Mia would remain on a leash for the duration of her days. That would keep Mia safe and stop Laurie from worrying about her.

  Mia’s intense love of freedom posed an obvious and paradoxical problem for both owner and pet.

  But was that always what was best for Mia?

  “Knock-knock,” Laurie called from the front door of my home.

  I motioned for her to come into my office and take a seat while I wrapped up a phone call. She flopped into a rusted yellow chair, one of my two antique metal chairs befitting a ranch office. Laurie leaned into the red fleece blanket thrown over the chair and pulled out her notes for our informal meeting. I watched her eyes roam the walls around us. Each was filled to capacity with an assortment of artwork from loved ones, cavalry bits, old studded leather tack, and other western antiques and memorabilia.

  Laurie appeared captivated by my mountain pictures. Majestic photographs of Mount Rainier and Mount Shasta were bordered by shots I took while climbing them. The two ice axes I had used hung between the pictures. Several images showed crevasses so massive that my house could easily fit inside their icy expanse.

  Laurie kept scanning, and then she broke out with a snicker. She motioned toward a humorous plaque and mouthed, “Hey, I need one of those.”

  I hung up the phone and spun around in my chair to see which item had amused her. It was a faux Wild West sign inscribed with an old western script. I read it aloud: “Put your big girl panties on and deal with it!”

  We laughed, nodding in agreement.

  I pointed with my thumb and said, “I love this sign because it reminds me to not take the little rough spots throughout the day so seriously. As women, we can get so hung up on such small, ridiculous things. As silly as this sign is, it really does encourage me to make big girl choices over the decisions I face while sitting at my desk.”

  “Ah, speaking of choices,” Laurie said, “boy, has my little dog been showing me the true impact of the choices we make in this life. Because of her sudden blindness, I’ve had to keep her on a leash, and she can’t stand it! It’s been tough on us both. She wants her freedom; I want her safety. She wants to be the active dog she once was, and I want her to learn how to travel through this world without being destroyed by it.”

  Laurie glanced out the window, where a dozen sparrows and juncos feasted at a feeder. She laughed a bit, more to herself than to me. “It’s kinda weird. So much of the dilemma I’m having with my dog is the same as what my parents once had with me.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, you know the old adage, ‘No parent can raise their child in a padded room’? Man, that has been ping-ponging around in my head these days.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to teach Mia to find her way through this season of her life. Now that she is almost totally blind, how do I guide her without doing
everything for her? How do I allow her to learn from her own mistakes without being harmed by them? Now I understand how hard this must have been for my parents when I had more selfish desires than sense. I wanted to push against their guidance and test the limits of my freedom.”

  I laughed. “Why, I’ve never done that! I was the perfect child! Completely obedient in every way. Just ask my sisters. They’ll confirm that’s absolutely true—right after they pick themselves up off the floor from laughing nearly to death!”

  After our hilarity subsided, Laurie’s gaze dropped to the nubby oatmeal carpet. I could see she was drifting in thought again. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was contemplating a specific moment of conflict with her parents.

  Rallying her reflections, she looked up at me. “I keep questioning whether or not to let Mia off her leash. By constantly restraining her, I wonder, Is it safe for her body? Maybe, but it does restrict nearly all her natural exercise. Is it safe for her mind? Nope! She tells me that every time I clip her leash to her collar. Once Mia’s on line, she acts like I’ve just slammed a prison door in her face. She hates it!

  “I don’t know what to do. I do know that for my dog to exist in this world of blindness, she has to be able to learn, adapt, and grow within it. I think that can only happen if she’s allowed to explore the environment she’s going to live in. Maybe then she can discover how to deal with it, one step at a time, right?” I could tell Laurie was asking for my permission as much as my opinion.

  I took the bait. “Hmm, I think you’re right. Just like you love to play the piano, this would be the same as knowing how to play in your head, but never practicing. You’ll never really learn how to play unless you practice what you know.”