A valuable lesson from the book of Bogey

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This article was published 24/12/2022 (1317 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

It probably doesn’t qualify as a Christmas miracle, but we’ll take it all the same.

Every year since we adopted him, Bogey, our 13-year-old little white dog that resembles a cross between a cotton swab and a throw pillow, has engaged in the same quirky holiday tradition.

As soon as our Christmas tree goes up in mid-December, this feisty little guy will casually curl up under its branches like some kind of furry present, assuming presents had the ability to snore and emit potentially toxic aromas.

“He’s trying to be extra cute so he’ll get more presents,” is what my wife sniffed the first time we spotted him sacked out under the tree.

It became something we looked forward to every year during the holidays. Our house didn’t feel fully decorated until Bogey had managed to squeeze his little body into the array of gaily wrapped presents stuffed under the tree.

But this year we were worried things would be different. That’s because about three months ago Bogey went blind.

It happened quite quickly. One moment we noticed cataracts clouding his eyes, the next moment he was bumping into walls and struggling to locate dog treats we were literally holding in front of his face.

Initially, my wife and I were devastated to realize this dog we love beyond words could no longer see our faces. We felt sorry for Bogey, but truthfully I think we mostly felt sorry for ourselves.

Over the years, we have dealt with a wide variety of pet-related health challenges, including two Basset hounds that lost the use of their back legs and had to rely on a doggie wheelchair to motor around the neighbourhood.

But caring for a blind dog was something totally new to us. Naturally, we talked with our veterinarian and spent hours scouring the Internet for helpful tips.

I should point out here that losing his vision isn’t the only health challenge Bogey has faced this year. About eight months ago, he was diagnosed with canine diabetes, which resulted in him spending a large chunk of his day drinking water and then peeing on every rug in the house.

His daily routine now includes two insulin injections, which I can manage with a fair bit of proficiency because I have been an insulin-dependent diabetic for roughly the past decade.

The important point is that, after we finished wallowing in self-pity and wringing our hands nervously, we realized our newly blind dog wasn’t wasting time feeling sorry for himself.

It became clear that we were having a far harder time than he was adjusting to his blindness. Instead of feeling afraid and confused, Bogey was just getting on with his life.

I’m not saying there aren’t any struggles for a dog learning to cope with the loss of his vision, because there clearly are daily challenges. We’ve learned to keep his environment familiar, and not rearrange the furniture because that could put obstacles in his path as he navigates around the house.

The great thing is that dogs, unlike humans, do not rely totally on vision as their most important sense. Bogey’s nose and ears help guide him around a landscape he can no longer see.

It takes this fuzzy little guy a while to screw up his courage when it’s time to jump off the couch. And he approaches the top stair leading down to the back yard the way you or I might approach a landmine.

If we forget to say “hello” before suddenly petting him or scooping him up, there’s a good chance he’ll jump right out of his furry skin. And when he ventures outside, we keep watch at the back door to ensure he doesn’t accidentally tumble into one of our gaping window wells.

We also chirp warnings — “WATCH OUT, BOGEY!” — if he’s about to bonk his head into something, or if he is poised to walk on the wrong side of an open door and get trapped against the wall.

Obviously, some things are going to be different for a dog that can no longer use his eyes to navigate the world. When summer returns, he won’t be able to race up and down the fence to bark at evil-doers on the other side, something he would do with such blinding speed that he literally carved a dirt track into our back lawn.

But that’s not today’s festive holiday point. No, the point is that it will take a lot more than diabetes and blindness to prevent this determined dog from enjoying life.

That is especially true when it comes to the holidays. Last week, shortly after we stuck our tree in its stand and wrapped it in lights, I heard my wife calling my name from the living room.

When I trundled out of the kitchen, she pointed under the tree and said: “Check it out.” There, under the boughs, resting peacefully, was our blind but content little dog.

What with being the kind of people who get emotional watching cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies, my wife and I became a tad misty-eyed knowing that one of our favourite traditions was still going strong.

I like to think that if Bogey can find his happy place amid the holiday chaos, there just might be hope for the rest of us. Merry Christmas!

dougspeirs65@gmail.com