Blind Faith

I'm always up for new experiences.  I have drawn the line, however - since Stella - that I will not take on a dog with ailments that require my ability to tend to them or they might die.  However, a canine with a disability--why not?  Since Tia's flight was cancelled due to the possibility of inclement weather, I said Yes to Patti when she asked if I could overnight a blind Boxer and drive him to LAX the next morning.

"He doesn't look blind," I said to Patti as I watched Dupi stand up in the backseat and try to make his way over Patti's center console, into the driver's seat and out into the parking lot.

"Oh, no, he's blind.  He walks into things," Patti assured me.

That's the thing: how can you tell if a dog is blind?  I mean, with people, there are the tell-tale signs:  they wear dark sunglasses, use a walking cane, or even, appropriately, have a seeing-eye dog.  A blind dog does not have any of these things.  In fact, my pea-sized human brain kept forgetting he was blind due to his lack of obvious signs.  He strode with such confidence down the sidewalk, using a high step and graceful trot, that I kept forgetting until he would walk directly into a tree.

I'm the worst seeing-eye person ever.

I didn't know that his blindness was caused by cataracts until the next day.  Meaning, that at one point, Dupi (or Deej, as I called him because Dupi is a horrible name, if it's a name at all) did have sight at one point.  So I spent the entire evening just thinking about what it must be like to be completely blind--and a dog.

As human beings with language, we can express our thoughts and experiences to others.  We can describe what something looks like to another person who can't see it.  They can describe to us how they experience the world.

But does a puppy born blind ever think the world is visual at all?  Does a deaf dog believe he's missing out on auditory experience, or does he just accept that one feels vibrations only?  Do the dogs communicate amongst themselves and let each other know how they experience the world?

There have been cases where sighted dogs assist blind dogs.  A couple of years ago, I had an opportunity to meet one such pair: Chance and Blue.  In fact, Chance was both blind and deaf.  Blue was his eyes and ears.  They were found on the street together, two homeless pit bulls weaving in and out of traffic.  No one knew Chance lacked both sight and hearing until they got to the shelter.

When I watched them interact together, I noticed how Chance had this other sort of perception--he could feel Blue.  If Blue got too far away, Chance would let out a whine, and Blue would return and body-bump him.  "I'm right here," he seemed to say.  Then Chance would lose all his tension again and be happy to trot around the open space.

I do wonder if we, as humans, are all disabled in some way.  We claim there are only five senses, but how do we know?  You have to discover something to know you lack it.  What if there's a whole other sense of perception that none of us have?  Or maybe a few people have it, but they don't say anything for fear of being outcast.

It's been said that when you lose one sense, your other senses make up for it.  But that doesn't explain Deej's unnerving confidence in the face of a world of darkness.  I have less confidence stumbling around my bedroom in the dark of night than he has in an unknown neighborhood.  Maybe there really are more than five senses... but the dogs can't communicate what those other ones are.

Adaptation is more of an art than a sense I suppose, but Deej definitely has that. His ability to make it around in the world is impressive.  I was hoping his previous owners had taught him some sort of directions, although I wasn't sure which words he knew.  At the dog park with Tia, for instance, a woman with a blind dog would simply call out, "Watch!" to the dog if he was about to walk into something.  He would immediately stop walking and turn in another direction.

So for Deej, I tried, "Right," "Left," "Forward," to direct him but mostly I found myself saying the word, "Sorry," as I couldn't communicate the dangers that were around him.

He was a pretty sweet and chill boy for going through all he had and was about to start another whole adventure in the morning.  He's a purebred with a docked tail, so although I don't know if he was an owner-surrender or stray, I can state with some confidence that he had an owner at one point.  He skin showed some scarring from sitting too long on hard surfaces.  He had been in a shelter--a scary place for those that can see what's going on; only hearing the noises, I can't imagine how terrifying that must be.  Then once he got rescued, he was neutered.  Upon picking him up, the rescuer discovered he was bleeding--yup, botched neuter job.  So the poor guy had to be opened back up again.  Once should be enough for any animal.

He had spent the past few weeks at a vet's recovering from the two surgeries, and finally he was on his way to his foster dad and champion--in Illinois. 

The internet makes it a lot easier for animals to be networked, and had it not been for the internet, Deej, formally Dupi, would most likely be dead right now.  A kind gentleman who loves Boxers, and has three of his own, saw the plea for Dupi online, and donated money to get Deej pulled, get him his surgery, board him, then fly him all the way to Chicago.  He had a potential adopter, but if that fell through, Deej would stay with him until another adopter was found.

I had never had an experience with Pet Airways, which is who Deej would be flying the friendly skies with, so I was happy to get a chance to check it out.  I was shocked to see that Deej's plane ticket was a whopping $750.  This man must really want Deej here, because even a purebred Boxer puppy doesn't cost that much. 

I had heard Pet Airways was a great way to get your beloved pet across the country.  I was confused when Patti asked me to take Deej because someone needed to watch him before his flight.  Didn't they do that at the airline?  I mean, for $750 they better be hand-feeding him and picking up his shit before it hits the ground.  Especially because it wasn't a direct flight to Chicago.  Patti explained that they would watch him, but in case there was a long line, I'd have to stay with him until he could be checked in.

Every great idea has its flaws.  This airline is great as none of the animals are in cargo.  The planes are devoid of passenger seats and in their place are rigs to hold animal crates.  An airline attendant walks the cabin every fifteen minutes, checking on the passengers.  This is fantastic!

However, they're not using Boeing 757's.  They're using tiny planes that don't have the fuel capacity or elevation ability to make too long of a flight.  Also, they might as well serve as many as possible.  So Deej, here, would be sky-bound at 10:30 AM from Los Angeles, and then proceed to touch down in Phoenix, Denver, and somewhere in Iowa, all before landing at Midway Airport, and ready to be picked up by his foster dad sometime between 3:40AM and 6:40AM Chicago time.

I thought getting to Massachusetts from California was a pain in the ass.  That's nothing in comparison to Deej's itinerary.

I admit I had gotten used to Tia.  I was used to our ease in travel.  I hadn't transported a new dog in quite some time.  I thought Deej would be fine to ride in the seat, as in Patti's car he had made himself at home in the backseat.  But I don't have a backseat.

The poor boy is a bit lanky, and curled up didn't seem so comfortable. Not that he ever looked truly happy with the droopy face.

So he tried this:

Now can you understand why I kept forgetting he was blind?  I'm sure everyone else on the 110 thought he was just watching the traffic out the front windshield.

You forget how much we use our eyes and body language to communicate.  Trying to drive, I'm pointing at the seat, telling Deej to sit down, and I realize he has no idea that I'm pointing at anything.  He might not even realize that I'm a tad busy at the moment.

Again, I must commend his ability to adapt and not fight new experiences.  He didn't freak out; he didn't cry or bark, and get all worked up.  He just went along for the ride.

Maybe that's the lesson I needed to learn on this one: to just relax and go along for the ride.  Or, that I really shouldn't offer my services to blind dogs either--for their sake, not mine.