When the hub and I were very young newlyweds, the opportunity presented itself for us to take a young puppy off the hands of my grandfather. Grandpa had gotten himself a puppy only to realize that trying to train a puppy at his age was a bit too much. We thought, Hey, we like dogs. Let’s do it.
And Rubio came to us 6 months old, fluffy and delightful! But, as Bacon’s prompt might have you know, about a year later, Rubio went blind. He had a genetic condition called Retinal Detachment which caused him to go blind pretty much overnight. Life with a blind dog isn’t too different from life with a sighted dog. Just a lot less fetch. (It’s a joke. It’s okay. You can laugh. He’s not offended by his blindness.)
Last year, we were informed that Rubio had developed Glaucoma in his right eye and it had begun filling with blood. This resulted in a lot of pressure and pain and the recommendation was that we remove both eyes. So, that’s what we did (well, that’s what the veterinarian did…).
Dogs are pretty incredible creatures. Mr Rube adapted very quickly to being blind. And until we moved from the apartment we were in when he lost his sight, he barely lost a beat. As he’s aged, he’s slowed down and is a pretty sedentary little guy. But still the sweetest dog you’ll ever meet.
I won a radio contest right after Rubio went blind. They were giving away $1500 in laser hair removal. You had to write a short essay (500 words?) about “something you thought would be permanent, but wasn’t.” I wrote about Rubio. I didn’t save whatever I wrote, but it was basically about how when I got that little puppy, the last thing I ever considered was that he’s lose his sight. But, he did. And that we should all appreciate everything we have while we have it, because nothing is for sure.
Rubio taught me a lot in those first few weeks of being blind. I was heartbroken for him. But, he wasn’t. He went about his normal routine. He snuggled up to us. He ate his food. He went on walks. He stumbled more, he bumped into the walls, but he wasn’t sorry for himself. So, I decided I wouldn’t be, either. And I decided that I wouldn’t be sorry for myself when the unexpected (which was bound to) would happen. And that attitude has served me well through many unexpected (some unpleasant) life events.
So, yes. My dog has no eyes. But, don’t feel sorry for him. He doesn’t. He just wants a good ear scratch. Just like any other dog.
Alright, Oleander. You’re up. Let’s hear about the top spelling/grammar errors that you see on your Facebook feed.