Blind Hope: An Unwanted Dog & the Woman She Rescued (9 page)

Dr. Shawn and Laurie agreed 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.

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.”

T
ime 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.

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.”