Just look at that face! Isn’t he the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?
Meet Watson the Brave. He inspires me just by being who he is and navigating fearlessly through the world seeing only with his heart. He is actually our granddoggie—he belongs to our daughter, but when she went to Australia for medical school he came to live with us. And we’ve been blessed to have this inspiring little buddy here with us ever since. We are retired and we have other pets to keep him company, so we all decided it would be better for him to be here than with his busy busy mama for the time being. But he knows he’s her dog, and she loves and misses him like crazy.
When our daughter rescued him, he was just a puppy and was not blind yet. He’s got personality out the wazoo, and he is such a fluffy bundle of joy! You would never know most of the time that he is blind.
He has mapped out our house so well and is so independent that if I go through the kitchen to get to my room at the other end of the house, he may choose to go the other route through the living room, rather than blindly following me (pardon the pun). But other times he gives full meaning to the phrase “dogging my steps,” as he practically walks on my heels following me—often when he first gets up so he doesn’t have to wake up fully to get to the back door to take care of his needs. Sometimes he loses me and we play Marco Polo—or should I say “Barko Polo.” He says “bark” and I say “Polo” until he finds me. He knows the words “stop,” “turn,” and “careful” and adjusts his trajectory accordingly. However, if he gets excited, all bets are off. If the doorbell rings, he bounces like a pinball off everything in the house trying to get to the front door.
Our other dog, Fala, is 14 years old and is going deaf, plus he has cataracts which are clouding his vision. The funniest thing happens when Fala makes some noise Watson doesn’t recognize. Watsy thinks, “What was that?” and starts barking. Fala figures Watson must have heard something he didn’t hear, so he starts barking, too, and heads for the front door, probably thinking it’s that oh-so-scary UPS (or Amazon) delivery person. Which gets Watson all worked up, because he figures Fala must have seen something he of course can’t see. Next thing you know, they both have barreled through the house (Watson caroming into everything on the way) and are barking wildly at the front door. It’s nearly impossible to convince them that they are actually barking at themselves. I often have to open the door and let Fala see that there’s no one there, which shuts him up, at which point Watson takes Fala’s word for it and stops barking, too.
Watson has an uncanny sense of food being eaten anywhere in the house, and also a well-developed sense of fairness, as in “if Fala gets a treat then I need one too.” He can be sound asleep at my feet in our family room when suddenly he gets up and heads down to whatever room my husband is in on the other end of the house, because he somehow knows that Fala is receiving treats, and he is prepared to beg for his fair share.
The first thing our daughter told us when she brought Watson to live with us was not to feel sorry for him, because he gets along just great, and she was right. They pick up on your emotions—so if you’re sad for him all the time he can feel it and be unsettled. But they went through a lot together when he went completely blind with congenital glaucoma at two years old. She and the vets tried to save his eyes by using drops, but the pain was so bad that the vet recommended having his eyes removed, (double enucleation), which the ophthalmologist specialist vet concurred with. This was not done lightly, but it is also fairly common for dogs who have extremely painful eye conditions like cancer or glaucoma.
Because Watson was so young, he adapted quickly after the initial recovery from the surgery. Our daughter told us that his happy, playful personality came back as soon as the pain was gone, so it was a blessing, even though it was awful to think about and go through. It bothers doggie parents (and grandparents) much more than it bothers the dogs—as far as they know, the world went dark for everyone when it went dark for them. And Watson was already totally blind, so the operation just stopped the pain.
He’s still very playful and tries to play with Fala, although Fala isn’t much of a player. They’ve developed a really unique way of almost passive playing which is cute. Watsy also loves to help me work on my iPad or laptop. He loves being wherever we are, but is not afraid to wander off on his own to get a drink or intercept a snack or whatever. Our daughter taught him to bark a single bark when he needs to go out. He also barks for Fala to let us know he needs to go out (because Fala just stands silently by the back door patiently waiting—even if we’re in another part of the house. So helpful), and when our cat Cleo wants to come in from outside, although since Cleo keeps quiet about it, I don’t know how Watson knows he’s there.
Sometimes when Watsy “looks” at me, I can hardly believe he can’t see, even though I obviously know he can’t. The way his hair grows, you might not even notice that he doesn’t have eyes. In fact, the other day we were at the vet for a checkup and Watson hadn’t been groomed for way too long because of Covid. His hair was so long it was a little hard to tell his front end from his back end. I was chatting with the vet tech about why we were there when I realized she was looking for his eyes. I said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you he doesn’t have any eyes.” She said, “Oh no wonder! I thought he must really need grooming badly when I couldn’t find them!”
Notice his rope is right there—but he wants us to give it it to him!
Before Watson came to us, our daughter had really worked with him when she had to leave for work so that he would know she was coming back, especially after he lost his sight. She gave him his rope every time she left in hopes that it would occupy him—he loved to play with it. Before they came here she didn’t know if it actually helped him or not, because of course she wasn’t there to see. But when she left him here, it was very clear that he had bonded with that rope. When anyone leaves or arrives at the house, he insists we give him his rope. Even if it’s right there where he could find it if he tried, he will dance around on his hind legs until we give it to him. He has us well trained. He does a pretty impressive twirl as he dances, too! And he’s just so stinkin’ cute, we don’t mind catering to his demands. Most of the time. At least the demand for his rope. Not so much other demands.
He uses the rope to work through his emotions and a bit of angst by growling and shaking it, as dogs do. He’s worn out quite a few ropes, and it’s a job to get him attached to a new one. Luckily the rope is a Walmart special that we’ve stocked up on, and it doesn’t take him too terribly long to get used to the new identical one. It’s even the same color, as if that mattered to him. But it helps us tell it apart from his other ropes, because if you try to give him a different rope when you leave, he will just open his mouth and let it fall to the floor like a toddler with food they don’t like. Switching to a new rope brings on a temporary craziness that breaks our hearts a little as he tries so hard to find his old, worn, beloved rope—before he eventually gives up and accepts the imposter. He’s as attached to his rope as Linus is to his security blanket. We work with both ropes for awhile to get him used to the new one before we deep-six the old threadbare rope.
I’m always impressed that a blind dog can jump up on the couch with his rope in his mouth! Sometimes in wrangling with his rope, though, he tosses it through the air. When we don’t see where it went, we often have trouble finding it. That’s especially distressing when we’re trying to get out the door in a timely manner. I was really glad I witnessed the time it sailed through the air across the entire living room to land in the far corner between a large bookcase and the wall. Had I not seen it, I’m not sure we ever would have found it. Although in reality we would have, because the few times we have lost it for hours or even a day, Watson eventually will start growling and barking in the vicinity of the rope because he has finally sniffed it out. Then we just have to find what it’s under, behind, or sometimes even on top of, like cabinets. He will not let us rest until we find it.
If we don’t give him his rope as we’re leaving, he tries really hard to slip out the door with us. But as long as he has it, he doesn’t really care if we leave for awhile. And he knows we come back. He’s so secure, it’s a lovely thing to experience.
As I was in bed writing this tonight, Watson whimpered to get up—to go out, I thought. But no, he first went to get a drink of water (he’s as bad as a toddler wanting a drink of water after you’re all settled in for the night), then went right to where he had left his rope at the other end of the house earlier that evening. He played with it for a couple of minutes and then brought it back to the bedroom and laid it in Fala’s bed for safekeeping.
He’s a very special dog and we love him to bits, maybe you can tell. Now it’s your turn! Tell me about your pets—and pictures would be awesome! If you want to know more about Watson’s buddy Fala, click here. I’ll write about Cleo soon, and if you want to be sure not to miss any stories, sign up for my email newsletters below. Don’t you feel inspired just by loving a pet who would rather be with you than anything (with the possible exception of his rope)?