When love is blind - adopting a blind dog

Animals, Winter, 2001 by Pamela H. Sacks

McNabb notes that Levin's book proved critical to the future of a basset hound that went blind from inherited glaucoma. Sensing there was a problem, the owner had brought her pet in for an exam. But it was a couple of weeks too late to prolong sight in the first eye. Then the second eye was affected, and McNabb employed both medication and surgery in an unsuccessful attempt to prevent blindness.

To relieve the pain from the pressure, the decision was made to remove the interior portions of the eyes, a procedure known as enucleation, which can succeed if the shell is healthy. Prostheses would be implanted to give the basset a more normal appearance. Still, the owner was devastated by her pet's blindness and doubted whether she could provide him with a good life.

After McNabb persuaded her to take a look at Levin's book, the client decided to give some of the author's suggestions a try. She glued textured rubber onto the stairs to ease her pet's trip around the house. At playtime, she threw a ball with a bell so that the basset could hear where it was. When McNabb saw her client six months after the operation, the woman beamed and said her dog was enjoying life to the fullest.

For many people, giving a blind dog a home just adds a challenge to the pleasure of having a pet.

Barbara Gibson decided to adopt a blind dog named Rusty when she read about him in Yankee Golden Retriever Rescue's newsletter. Rusty's previous owners had abused him by throwing balls at him and placing furniture in his path. The hostile environment had turned Rusty into an aggressive, frantic dog.

Gibson, who already had two older goldens, knew that what he needed was reassurance and a quiet, consistent atmosphere. After Rusty came into her home in Darien, Connecticut, Gibson would lead him around and say "bump" when he approached a chair, sofa, or table. It wasn't long before he had the layout down pat. These days, the furniture is generally left in the same place; if an object is moved, Gibson shows the change to Rusty. She also talks to him constantly. He has learned to back up when she says "back." When she wants him to come, she calls his name and taps her thigh to indicate her location. When preparing for a walk, she tells him, "It's time to go out now. Let's get your leash." Rusty quickly goes to the door, where he sits and waits.

One thing she says has helped Rusty is the constant presence of other dogs. For the first six months he was with Gibson, her 11-year-old golden, Dugan, played a lead role in his life. During walks in the woods, Rusty, whose blindness is caused by underdeveloped retinas, would follow Dugan, staying right at his ear. He could hear and smell where Dugan was. Sadly, Dugan died this summer, and Gibson is working to fill Dugan's void by talking Rusty through their outings so that he will once more handle the woods with confidence.

Gibson's relationship with Rusty, she says, has a special chemistry that is both fascinating and rewarding. "He's wonderful," Gibson says. "He's a great pet. He is a sweet, devoted dog."