SEEING-EYE HUMAN

     Geronimo, a lovable German Shepherd, had been my best friend and companion for twelve years. He was a rescue dog who always seemed as grateful for me as I for him. I lost Geronimo two years ago to an infection. Losing him brought on mixed feelings. I couldn’t imagine my house without this big, energetic dog constantly begging for attention. The walks and run we had over the years were wonderful antidotes to the hours of quiet, solitude I spent as a writer. On the other hand, when I had to travel, which was frequently, I had to prevail on friends to look after Geronimo. He was a one-master dog and friends would tell me how he’d sulk when I was away. At times, I had to board him, which was the worst. He would be reminded of the time he’d spent in a kennel as a young dog. I decided I needed to be dog-less for a bit to travel without worrying about my friend’s well-being.

     After two years, I’d had enough. I was ready for another canine companion. I went to the same kennel where I’d found Geronimo. Every dog captured my heart, even the ones that were skittish or distant. After two hours of playing with and studying the dogs, I noticed a dog that seemed to be quietly looking into the distance. It was a beautiful Golden Retriever. I ask to spend some time with this dog, Violet. The kennel worker let me know right away there was something special about Violet. She’d been blind from birth. I knew right away we were a match.

     As a writer, I've always focused on places. I lavish attention on vivid descriptions. My stories have became known, and I think loved, for the images I painted in words. Something told me that Violet, my blind Golden Retriever, could help me see even better. I’d be her seeing-eye human.

     I started out walking Violet in the neighborhood. I must have looked crazy talking to her about the plants, trees, houses, animals, insects, and other things that caught my eye. She seemed to enjoy my babbling. I began taking her on short trips into the country. We went to lakes, rivers, forests, and villages as different times of the year and under different weather conditions. She especially seemed to like the rain. 

     Like many animals and people deprived of a particular sense, her other senses seemed enhanced. Her sense of smell was, of course, quite acute, but so also were her hearing, touch, and taste. I would laugh to myself when I’d catch her licking the bark on a tree or sniffing different plants. There were times when I would want to go in one direction and she another. She always won the day and made the better choice.

     From these excursions, I found myself working on a set of short stories. I’d read them to her for her response. When she remained alert and attentive, I knew I’d done pretty well. When she curled up or ignored me, I knew I’d fallen short. She was a brilliant critic, short and to the point.

     One day, I got a call from the publisher who’d produced my first two sets of short stories. She was excited about the new ones and said I’d outdone myself. With publication came book tours and signings. I always insisted that Violet come with me. Bookstores and libraries, the places I mainly went to meet and greet, were generally quite receptive. Violet was a real trouper and, of course, always stole the show. She’d get an applause when she’d bark and get excited when I read certain passages, especially in libraries. At first, I thought she needed to potty. Then I knew she remembered exactly where we were in the passage. She’d also get a laugh when she’d lay down in boredom as I read passages she’d not approved of during the writing phase.

     Folks were constantly asking me when my next set of short stories would come out. They also wondered if I’d considered making Violet a full co-author and not just an editor and critic. I immediately set out to do just that. I wrote two or three stories where my observations alternated with Violet’s. I supposed the next step was for me to become merely the typist.

     A documentary film-maker came calling, wondering if I’d consider having a movie made of my life as a seeing-eye human. When Violet left the room during his proposal, he got his answer. Like Geronimo, Violet wasn’t after fame or hosts of admirers. The meet and greets were plenty for her, and for me.

     As Violet’s seeing-eye human, I had to become more sensitive, more particular. I had to pick up on her cues and expand my sensory awareness. I wasn’t afraid to smell plants and to dig into the earth and put my nose into the soil. When she listened, I listened. When she touched something with her paw, I touched it with my hands. I noticed what people wore and what scents they put out. I was almost never her leader but, rather, her follower. 

     The only thing I couldn’t bring myself to do, beyond sniffing poop and urine, was to lick the bark of trees. I’d tell myself I was probably missing something, but I’d let her have the bark and I’d stick to ice-cream cones. Come to think of it, she outdid me on that as well. My beautiful blind Golden Retriever taught me to see.