A different sort of Easter Bonnet

I interviewed Betsy Folwell for a story in Bark Magazine five years ago, and we’ve kept up with each other via email ever since. We have a lot to talk about, I guess: Both of us lost our sight as adults, and both of us are published authors. I was delighted when Betsy agreed to write a guest post for my Safe & Sound blog today, and once you read this entry, I think you’ll see, ahem, why.

Into the Eye’s Mind

by Elizabeth Folwell

Morning announces itself to me not with roosters crowing but squiggles of yellow, blue, white and red on a black background. Like a drawing by Keith Haring. Or an aboriginal sand painting.

Betsy Folwell on Chimney Mountain, near Indian Lake, NY, with her dogs Kesey
(left), Tinkerbelle (right) and guide dog Oakley (foreground). Photograph by
Nancie Battaglia.

Ever since I lost my sight 10 years ago these moving pictures have been part of my routine. In fact, if I wake up without the show I feel cheated.

There’s a scientific name for this phenomenon, of course, and a scholarly explanation. Swiss naturalist and philosopher Charles Bonnet commented on the intense hallucinations his 87-year-old grandfather witnessed. The old man, blind from cataracts, told Charles about the faces, buildings and activities that appeared before him, as real as anything he had seen with young eyes. Bonnet was formulating complex theories about how the nervous system works as a series of vibrations, and the happy village scenes of his grandfather were evidence of energetic pathways between the optic nerve and brain.

We can thank Bonnet, who trained as an attorney but never practiced law, for several modern scientific observations: how butterflies breathe, how primitive animals regenerate limbs, how plants communicate. The last item continues to dazzle researchers today. Bonnet passionately pursued botany and biology until his own failing sight turned his mind inward, to philosophical explanations of nature’s progression toward perfection. To Bonnet, everything was evolving, climbing higher and higher, until insects attained angelhood.

Only some of Bonnet’s work has been translated into English, and he’s remembered more as a religious thinker than scientific innovator. In our times his name is attached to Bonnet syndrome, a handy phrase that family practice doctors and ophthalmologists can tell their patients who ask querulously, “Am I going crazy?” when they describe seeing little green men bouncing purple basketballs down Main Street. I am not making this up; when I described my own psychedelic worm farm to my family doc, he shared that story — without violating any HIPPA rules since he did not say who had aliens on the brain.

When Beth’s blog Imagine described how different parts of the brain respond to words(how, for example, the word “lavender” can make the scent-sensitive territory light up as if a bundle of flowers were right there) I thought of my own suggestible head. The visual cortex, even without accurate input, wants to stay in touch.

Elizabeth Folwell is the author of Short Carries: Essays from Adirondack Life as well as articles and blogs at Adirondack Life.

Betsy blogs

It happened, literally, in the blink of an eye. Betsy Folwell was at her magazine job, squinting at her computer screen, when all of a sudden her visual field filled up with gray. The diagnosis: nonarteritic ischemic optic neuropathy. She was blind.

That's Betsy with her Bear -- her Newfie mix -- and her guide dog Oakley.

I met Betsy five years ago when Bark magazine asked me to write a piece about in-home guide dog training. Most people with disabilities attend three-to-four-week sessions at training centers to work with a new service dog. “But I couldn’t see leaving home and losing my independence for even a month,” Betsy told me in the interview. “Especially at a time when I was struggling to learn my limits.” She taught her own dog Bear to lead her to the local post office, but when she realized the Newfy mix would be too big to get on trains and planes with her when she traveled, she used her reporting skills to find an “in-community” program to bring an instructor and guide dog to her home.

Oakley, a two-year-old Labrador Retriever, leapt from his crate and covered Betsy with kisses when the Upstate Guide Dog Association van arrived at her door. The duo was up at seven every morning to meet their trainer and worked nonstop until six each evening, focusing on routes Betsy and Oakley would take on a regular basis. After two weeks, the trainer left Betsy with her new guide and took off for another town and another dog and client.

Betsy said the program was perfect for her, but she won’t be training that way again when it comes time for a new dog. “Upstate Guide Dogs went belly up,” she told me with a shrug. “Lack of funds.”

The sad Truth is, one instructor for one student can be costly. The good news? Oakley is still a strong worker. Betsy is, too: Adirondack Lifemagazine kept her on after she lost her sight. She’s the creative director there now, and she uses a talking laptop like mine to write stories. From an article about Betsy Folwell in a Vermont publication called Seven Days:

A ruddy, spry redhead with a dry wit, she is generous to a fault with her time. And her blindness is barely apparent to a casual observer. Folwell doesn’t use a cane and, on this reporter’s recent visit to her office, her yellow Lab guide dog, Oakley, was sleeping on the job, perhaps chasing chipmunks in his dreams.

Adirondack Life has a circulation of 50,000 and comes out eight times yearly (six bimonthlies and two special issues). Betsy wrote yesterday touting the magazine’s new web site and letting me know she’s started blogging there, too: she writes the outdoor rec blog every week and posts on Park Life as well. “I’ve got one in the pipeline about winterizing your dog’s paws for snow,” she said, using that spry wit of hers to acknowledge the unusually mild winter we’ve had in Chicago. “That’s still a concern here!”

Off Leash with Bark Magazine

Yesterday the editors at Bark Magazine invited me to be a guest on Off Leash, their weekly open-thread real-time chat. I pretended I knew what an open thread real-time chat is and said yes.

They’ve been doing this weekly open thread thing for a while, I guess, but are making one tweak. They want to start inviting special guests to each open thread, and they decided to use me as their “test run” yesterday:

We’ll feature a regular Bark contributor, so readers can drill down on specific topics, such as training, behavior, rescue, activism, animal law and more. Other times, we’ll invite folks we admire to join the conversation.

I’ve never done instant messaging, but I’m guessing my experience yesterday afternoon was kind of what IM is like. Bark fans would comment or ask questions to the thread, and I’d answer in real time. An example from yesterday’s Off Leash thread:

Submitted by Jennifer B on April 27, 2011.
Beth, I’m not blind but I know several people that will be due to degenerative diseases of the eye. How hard was it to learn to trust your dog? I’ve worked as a care aide and done sensitivity training as if I were blind and it is hard to trust a human, that’s why I’m asking. How long did it take you to really put yourself in her paws?
• reply
Submitted by Beth Finke on April 27, 2011.
With my very first Seeing Eye dog I think it took me about a year to trust her. The second dog it only took me three months. I have been with Harper, my third dog, for four months now and find I don’t trust him *completely* yet, but I think that’s b/c I am living in a very busy city now — Chicago — and traffic is more difficult here. So actually, I guess I *do* trust Harper, just don’t trust the traffic!
• reply
Submitted by Lizzi on April 27, 2011.
I’d be interested to hear some more about your challenges in living in Chicago with a guide dog, as I live in Chicago and have a BIL with a guide dog.
And I agree, you should definitely NOT trust the traffic in Chicago. Especially cab drivers. Maybe they should teach guide dogs to recognize cabs and refuse to cross in front of them (only half joking here!).

Sometimes he thinks he's a lap dog.

The timing for this little threading experiment was perfect for me – the Seeing Eye sent out an instructor Monday to give me some techniques to try with Harper. We’ve been at it all week, and after making some progress yesterday afternoon we decided to take a break. While Harper snored at my feet, I “mingled” online.

In exchange for all this, Bark will place an ad for my children’s book Hanni and Beth: Safe & Sound in an upcoming issue. Bark had me write a guest post for their blog Wednesday, too. It’s about what it takes to be a guide dog instructor, a timely topic since Harper and I have spent so much time this past week with the visiting instructor. More on all that in a future post. Now that my open thread real-time mingling is over, I think I’ll join Harper in snoreland. Zzzzzzzzz…

Guide dog leads man to safety after earthquake

That's Nigel, my co-worker.

After hearing about the earthquakes in Japan yesterday, this story is particularly poignant. One of my co-workers at Easter Seals Headquarters is from New Zealand. Wellington, to be exact. Earlier this week Nigel (don’t you think that’s a great name? I do!) sent me a story he saw in a New Zealand paper about a guide dog named Kiwi. The eight-year-old Labrador/Retriever cross led his blind companion Blair McConnell safely out of an office building after last month’s earthquake in Christchurch. Kiwi stayed on task until a stranger gave the shaken pair a ride home. The story was heartwarming, of course, but what I found particularly interesting was this part of the article :

Kiwi’s bravery is already the stuff of urban legend. The story goes that the dog guided his master on foot across town to his home,
which has left McConnell feeling “a bit of a fraud”, knowing he got a ride, but: “I’m quite sure he would have walked me home that day if he had needed to.” 

This is the kind of quirky thing editors at Bark magazine just love. I contacted the blog moderator there to see if she might want me to write a guest post about Kiwi, and she said, “Sure!”

What? You call yourself a dog lover, and you’ve never heard of The Bark?! Here’s a description of the four-color glossy magazine from their web site:

Taking the magazine’s slogan to heart—Dog Is My Co-Pilot—Bark became the first magazine to tap into the exploding phenomena of dog culture and lifestyle, focusing on the growing bond between individuals and their pet companions. Bark’s impeccable pedigree includes publishing many of today’s most acclaimed authors, including Ann Patchett, Augusten Burroughs, Rick Bass, Amy Hempel, and Pulitzer Prize winning poet Mary Oliver. 

I’ve published a few articles for The Bark, too, and it’s always a thrill to say I write for the same magazine Ann Patchett writes for! You can read my guest blog about Kiwi at The Bark’s site and link to other Bark stories there, too—if you like dogs, trust me, you’ll like The Bark.

Hanni and Bobbie: Two Award-Winning Guide Dogs

Last Friday Bark Magazine sent me the link to a story in the Daily Telegraph about a blind Border Collie who has his own guide dog.

Black and white hound Clyde is totally blind and relies on his partner and fellow collie Bonnie to guide him everywhere.

She stays inches from Clyde’s side while guiding him on walks or to food or water, and lets him rest his head on her haunches whenever he becomes disorientated.

The blog editor at Bark wondered if I had anything interesting to say about the story. “If so,” she wrote, “would you be willing to write a guest blog for us about it?”

I was tempted to write something about training Hanni to let me rest my head on her haunches when I become “disorientated,” but I resisted. The post I ended up writing is titled Guide Dogs for Cats and Dogs? and was published on their web site this morning. A few paragraphs from the Bark blog post :

I’ve heard a number of stories about dogs acting as guides for blind animals. One news story—about a dog who guided a blind cat to safety after Hurricane Katrina—was even made into a children’s book.

I learned about Two Bobbies: A True Story of Hurricane Katrina, Friendship, and Survival at the ASPCA Henry Bergh Childrens Book Award ceremony last month. Named in honor of ASPCA founder Henry Bergh, the award honors books that “promote the humane ethic of compassion and respect for all living things.”

Unable to resist an opportunity for shameless self-promotion, at this point in the Bark blog I point out that my own children’s book won a Henry Bergh children’s Book award in 2008.

As difficult as it was to give up our crown, Hanni and I were thrilled to learn we’d be handing it over to the likes of Two Bobbies.

The post goes on to describe the newest Henry Bergh book award winner:

During Hurricane Katrina, evacuating New Orleans residents were forced to leave their pets behind. Bobbi the dog was initially chained to keep her safe, but after her owners failed to return, she had to break free. For months, Bobbi wandered the city’s ravaged streets, dragging her chain behind her, followed by her feline companion, Bob Cat. After months of hunger and struggle, the two Bobbies were finally rescued by a construction worker helping to rebuild the city. When he brought them to a shelter, volunteers made an amazing discovery about the devoted friends—Bob Cat was actually blind! He had survived the aftermath of the storm by following the sound Bobbi’s chain made as she dragged it along the ground.

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