One of the best things ever to happen for people who are blind is the accessible voting machine. Yesterday, I voted in a special election in Ohio. With only one issue to address, it was going to be quick and easy. After I signed in, I said to the worker at the table, “I’ll need an accessible machine.” At the time, I thought I probably didn’t need to tell him that, because I was standing there with a white cane.

I was accompanied by the husband of a friend, only because his wife, my friend, had injured her knee. He walked me over to the man whom the first worker indicated, and again, after he began setting up a machine, I asked, “This is an accessible machine. Right?” Oh boy. That threw him for a loop. It was his first time working at the polls, and apparently, he had not been told about certain machines that were set up with headsets and audio instructions, with tactile arrows to press for moving to yes or no and enter. He asked me if I just wanted my husband to assist me.

I ignored the husband part. No need to explain all that. It wasn’t the point anyway. “No,” I said. “I want to vote on my own. You have an accessible machine. I want to use that one.” I’ve been voting independently for years. In the past, there have been separate machines for that purpose, but now, I just learned, they have a much smarter way to make any of the machines accessible for people who are blind or are visually impaired. He caught the attention of a more experienced worker, and she brought over a portable rubber pad that had raised marking on it. Up and down, right and left arrows were very easy to feel. A square shape with dots in the middle was where I would select my choice. She plugged it in, and with my prompting to make sure there was audio before she left, I was in business. At last I could get this little job done.

Not so fast, I might as well have heard. The machine insisted on reading the instructions in excruciating detail. After I got through that, it began to read the issue, in all its lengthy form. I stood there, tapping my toe in impatience, and finally, after what seemed like forever, I got to arrow to my choice and press the select button.

Despite having to put up with all that, I liked a new feature I had not experienced before. After I made my choice, I was prompted to press the right arrow key to print my ballot. Cool. Then it prompted me to wait. More waiting. But this time, I didn’t mind. I could hear the printer working away. Finally, the prompt told me to pull out my ballot, something I had never done myself. Not only that, I was required to walk it over to a ballot box and insert the real piece of paper, on which my choice was printed. Never before had I finished the process myself. What a satisfying feeling. I’ll be back in November, and I hope the workers will recognize me and be ready. I apologized to my friends for taking so long. I could have just let my friend tell me where to press, saving everybody the trouble, but I felt they needed to be educated. Sometimes I get tired of always having to educate, but I did my bit to promote independence for other visually impaired voters.

Mary Hiland

SeeingItMyWay.com

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir

and

Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available from Amazon

Columnist for Our Special Magazine

and Contributing Essayist for Light Magazine

It was Amazon Prime Day, and I was reeled in, thanks to an article in USA Today. Most of that publication isn’t worth my time, but I like the lists of great deals on certain products. My ears perked up when I heard about the IROB Roomba. I had been lusting after a Roomba for years, and now finally, I got my chance to own one.

My first impression was that it reminded me very much of setting a puppy loose in my house. Like a puppy, he set off to sniff around and see what trouble he could get into. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before he had scored a sock, which I gently but firmly extracted from his little mouth. “Bad boy,” I said.

Next he made a bee-line to the one bedroom I didn’t want him to go to, and I hadn’t moved fast enough to close the door. There were too many things on the floor to draw his attention, so I had to pick him up and encourage him to go elsewhere, as if he were a very curious toddler.

Then he immediately buzzed right over to a chair in the living room, and under it he went. Darned if he didn’t get stuck and couldn’t figure out how to back up and get out of that trap. So once again, I had to come to his rescue. But did he learn not to do that again? No, back under the chair he went, ignoring the rest of the room. What was he after? I have no idea.

I hadn’t done my usual exercise routine that day, but I sure got my steps in as I sprinted around the house, preventing Roomba from disaster. Even though I had to keep an ear out for wrong decisions and guide him into unvacuumed territory, it was still better than lugging a heavy and awkward vacuum cleaner up and down the steps. I actually got a kick out of watching him.

The most amusing antic of Roomba was that after a few minutes of running around the hallway in the bedroom area and not venturing into any of them, he shut himself off. Alexa then announced that Roomba had finished vacuuming.

“Oh no you haven’t,” I told him in no uncertain terms. “You’re just like the proverbial lazy teenager. You were told to clean your room, and you said you were done without even lifting a finger, or a wheel, as it were.” Again I picked him up, set him down in the bedroom, and told him to do his thing. He only did half the room, and he refused to do the other half. By that time, we were both tired of the game, and I sent him back to his docking station. Maybe next time, he’ll figure it out.

This may not be the perfect solution to the vacuuming chore, but at the very least, it will be a fun and exciting diversion for my real new puppy from The Seeing Eye, whenever that day comes.

Mary Hiland

SeeingItMyWay.com

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir

and

Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available from Amazon

Columnist for Our Special Magazine

and Contributing Essayist for Light Magazine

This is the beginning of the story of my sixth guide dog from The Seeing Eye ® and also the end. Yes, it’s a sad story that is all too short.

Following Dora’s death in April of 2022, I had to wait a year to be accepted into the Seeing Eye class, which started on May 22, 2023. I would be there until June 11, and I would be given a darling little chocolate lab.

It was love at first sight for me, as the instructor brought her to my room, and she climbed into my lap. Her little curious lab nose scanned my face all over as if to say, “Who are you?” This little girl was my first lab, after a string of goldens and lab/golden crosses. I knew we were going to have a lot of fun together.

Alas, however, she turned out not to be cut out to be my guide dog. Yes she was cute all right, but her pace was slow, and her nose never took a break. She was much more interested in sniffing than keeping me safe. It was clear to me that after 18 days of training with me at the school and almost 3 weeks at home, she was going to need even more of it, especially for the tasks I would be asking her to do.

I would be taking her with me to the Hen Hike, so we practiced walking on a hiking trail. Pretty good. Check. We would be walking around the pool area of the Y. We found a Y and practiced. Pretty good. Check. We would be walking mostly on suburban neighborhood streets. Not so good. So we practiced more of that too. Still not so good. It seemed she had forgotten about taking her person to curb ramps, slowing for broken sidewalks, and watching out for overhanging branches, no matter how many times she had to do them over. I had asked for 3 more days at the school, and was graciously accommodated.

But once we were home, I was still not convinced she was up to the job. Even though she seemed to enjoy hanging out with me, she didn’t particularly like working.

An instructor came to my home and walked slightly behind us, coaching me on correcting her when she made mistakes and warning me of uneven places in the sidewalk, where I might trip. He advised me on the best ways to approach certain tricky spots in the route I wanted to use for the walk to the grocery. For the first part of this training session, we were still thinking in terms of extending her training and honing her skills.

Sadly, however, by the end of the day, we were in agreement that even after all this extra training, she was not the dog for me. I need a dog with more drive, who can think through choices, like which way to go when making our way around cars parked over the sidewalk. I need a dog who doesn’t jump on people and yank my arm off when she wants to go somewhere else.

So last Friday, the instructor and this adorable little dog went back to The Seeing Eye in Morristown, NJ. She will be evaluated and possibly trained some more. Maybe she will be placed with someone who isn’t as active as I am, who doesn’t need a really smart dog, or maybe someone with some sight, so they can help her along.

I had to send one other dog back several years ago. It wasn’t any easier the second time around.

I’ll be submitting yet another application to train with dog number seven.

And BTW, I have not mentioned her name, to protect her anonymity. Just let it be said that I miss her a lot. We were together for almost 6 weeks, but it was not meant to be.

Mary Hiland

SeeingItMyWay.com

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir

and

Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available from Amazon

Columnist for Our Special Magazine

and Contributing Essayist for Light Magazine

With so many animals wearing vests and harnesses these days, it seems necessary to talk about guide dogs. I don’t know much about service animals in general, but because I’m waiting for my sixth Seeing Eye ® dog, I feel qualified to clear up some confusion about guide dogs and white canes.

Dogs from The Seeing Eye are bred and trained to guide people who are blind or have very low vision. While additional disabilities are taken into consideration, the primary job of guide dogs is to guide. They wear a harness with a handle, which the person holds. They can tell by the dog’s body language if there is a change in direction, but the person is in charge of giving the dog commands such as “left or right.” In other words, we don’t just hang on and let the dog decide where we are going.

Dog guide and guide dog are both acceptable terms, but only dogs from The Seeing Eye are Seeing Eye dogs. It used to be that people called all guide dogs Seeing Eye dogs, But these days, there are several schools that train dogs to be guides. The generic term for all dogs who help people with disabilities is service animals, but it bothers me to have my guide dog lumped into such a generic category.

The general public is so confused about the different kinds of disabilities it’s no wonder they are hesitant to call them anything but service animals. My last dog was referred to as everything from companion to friend to guard dog.

Since Dora died last April, I have been waiting for my turn to return to The Seeing Eye to train with another dog. Like most guide dog schools, they offer more than one form of training, but they all involve training with the dog 24/7. We don’t just go and pick one out and bring it home. I’ll be writing more about that when I return to The Seeing Eye at some undetermined time in the future. I hope it’s soon, because I’m not very good at using a white cane.

Speaking of white canes, it’s astonishing to me that many people are not aware that a white cane with a red tip is the equivalent of a sign that says “The person holding this cane is legally blind.” And BTW, it’s a white cane, not a walking stick.

White canes are used to interpret the physical world that is about three or four feet in front of the blind person. This is done by swinging the cane from side to side and touching the ground or the floor with the tip. The cane can also be swept from side to side without leaving the floor.

While I am waiting for a spot in a class at The Seeing Eye, I have had to resort to holding onto the elbow of a sighted person every time I leave my front door, and by now, you know how much I hate that. I often use my white cane at the same time, just for a little extra prevention of bumping into an object or a person. I also like to use it as an identity tool. But I keep being disappointed in the lack of understanding or recognition that it means something other than an accessory. It means that the reason I am not making eye contact is that I can’t see you. When I’m making my way through the lobby of a crowded place such as the Y, I’m constantly reminded of how so many don’t realize that I can’t see them standing there in my way, so I might bump my cane into them. Of course I apologize, but I really don’t think it’s my fault. I want to shout, “Hey watch where I’m going!” Just kidding.

I will say, however, that at least when I have a dog, people know that I have a disability of some kind, although they might not know which one. Does it really matter? It does to my dog. She would say, “I’m not just a service animal. I’m a Seeing Eye dog!”

Mary Hiland

SeeingItMyWay.com

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir

and

Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available from Amazon

Columnist for Our Special Magazine

and Contributing Essayist for Light Magazine

Remember when friends came home from a vacation, and you had to sit through a boring slide show? And you stifled yawns through the hours? I’ve saved you the embarrassment of yawning through my slide show by writing about my fabulous vacation, and I have included some unique photos I know you’ll love.

My son Steve and his domestic partner, Terri, took me to Florida for a week in the sunshine. We did some lying in the sun, as you do in Florida, but mostly we were on the move. We did a lot of walking, averaging more than 10,000 steps a day, through nature preserves, on boardwalks by the gulf, and along beaches. Terri and I swam laps in our beautiful heated pool, while Steve fished off the peer just a short walk from our condo. On one of our walks, we observed an osprey couple protecting their young. We also gazed at Venus and Jupiter from the balcony of our luxury VRBO condo. We bought fresh sea bass to grill for dinner and dined at upscale trendy restaurants. But I want to tell you about some highlights I will always treasure.

Terri had long dreamed of swimming with manatees, so that was first on our agenda. When Steve and I collected her from her adventure, she was bubbling over with excitement. Imagine floating face down in a crystal clear river, when suddenly a manatee was swimming right next to you on your right, and her baby was swimming on your left. Your heart beats wildly, because you know it’s not good to get between a mother and her calf, but they seemed to be fine with it. Another one swims directly under you, only inches below. It is nothing I would ever want to do, but I loved hearing every detail.

Steve and I had a similar experience as we kayaked with manatees the next day. We shared a tandem kayak, while Terri was in her own. I always checked with Steve before I dipped my paddle into the water so I could help propel our kayak, and not hit a manatee. Dozens of them swam without a care through dozens of kayaks with dozens of gawking people with cameras. We paddled along what could be called the main thoroughfare and then turned off onto a quiet channel, which was lined with opulent homes and thousands of birds of many kinds. It was there that I could paddle too and get an upper body workout. But while it was exciting to know we were sharing the waterway with these cow-sized creatures, it was Quiet and peaceful as well.

One night we dined on a restaurant’s dock and enjoyed watching dolphins frolicking nearby. Another night, we took a break from shopping and strolled on the boardwalk. We watched in wonder as a boat sailed through the raised drawbridge, while pelicans, sea crows, and seagulls, all sitting atop posts, kept a keen eye out for “dinner.” Another night we ate at a Cuban restaurant, where three roosters strutted around our picnic table. The biggest one declared me his new best friend, after I tossed him some bits of crust from my Cuban sandwich. Still, he scared me to death when he suddenly crowed right next to me. The server said they just showed up one day and stayed. How did they know Cuban food could be so good?

It’s hard to convey my joy in just one page, and I have several photos to show you. Maybe you’d better come over and see my slide show after all.

Mary Hiland

SeeingItMyWay.com

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir

and

Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available from Amazon

Columnist for Our Special Magazine

and Contributing Essayist for Light Magazine

This is a personal day of reflection for me. Forget about the insurrection. It’s a blight on my birthday. On that sad day in our country’s history, I was completely unaware. I was walking with my friend Dan and my beloved Dora in a quiet park, giving thanks for the winter birdsongs and the joy of watching Dora have a happy doggy day.

Today, as I start my celebrations of my birth, lo these many years ago, I suggest that it is not a day for celebrating me, but a day to celebrate my mother. I know very little about the story of my birth. Words like snow and ice, bus trip, almost too late come to mind. It was very inconvenient for me to make my appearance on one of the coldest and snowiest days of that winter. My dad was working in a nearby town, and I think he had to take a Greyhound bus back to Cincinnati, as his car had broken down. How my mother got to the hospital in time is a story I either forgot or never heard. When my kids have a birthday, somehow the stories of their births are always a feature of the celebrations.

I was an only child, although I had a half brother from my mother’s previous marriage. Thus, my parents, as well as Dick, doted on me, and I will always argue that I was not spoiled. My every need was met and most of my wants. I am thankful for all the gifts, loving family, middle class values, a strong work ethic, lots of humor, nice clothes, good food and plenty of it, and a happy childhood, all of which I took for granted. But here are some extras that were bestowed upon me.

My mother taught me to appreciate and love classical music. My aunt gave me dance lessons and nurtured my desire to become a serious student of tap and ballet. My grandmother gave me and my cousins the precious gift of country living, something I treasure and write about to this day. My dad set a valuable example of hard work and to get work done before play. He also took me on expeditions to collect nightcrawlers for fishing, which involved going to some place in the dark with a flashlight and my plucking up the worms with glove-covered “finnies.” He and I would walk to the drug store hand in hand, singing “Me and My Shadow.” He adored me.

My mother never complained about my vision loss. She taught me touch typing long before female high school students of the day were encouraged to take it. She worked all day as a typist and then as soon as we were finished with the dishes from supper, she helped me with reading assignments and proofreading compositions. She even had to read tests to me and much to her discomfort, write down the wrong answers if that’s what I told her to do. She was honest, supportive, and most of all, loving. She was proud of me, to a fault, even at the end of her 98 years.

When it’s your birthday, Dear Reader, do you give thanks to your mother and father for the gift of life? Do you forgive them for any shortcomings, as you see them? Nobody is perfect. We all make bad choices. But in the end, we hope that God has forgiven ours. Do I want to live until 98, just as my mother did? You bet, because I still have much to be thankful for. Happy birthday, Mom

Mary Hiland

SeeingItMyWay.com

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir

And

Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available from Amazon

Contributing Columnist for Our Special Magazine

Lies, Nothing But Lies

As I lay in bed this morning after the alarm went off, I was so happy nobody wanted to put her paws on my bed with love and happiness that I was finally awake.

I can stay indoors all day and not have to see what the world feels like, just listen to the radio for the weather report.

I can sit in my recliner all day and not take a walk.

I don’t need to be out in the sunshine.

I can ignore my need to go to the grocery and wait until someone can drive me. Riding in someone’s car when it’s convenient for them is much better than walking to the store when it’s convenient for me.

All the dog toys stay put in the toy box so it looks like nobody lives here.

I can leave snacks on the coffee table without worrying that someone will gobble them up.

I can leave half a sandwich on the table while I go get something to drink and not worry that the other half will be gone when I return.

When I get into a car, I have all the foot room I need.

When it rains, I don’t have to take anybody out for a potty break.

When a friend comes to visit, they don’t have to be bothered greeting my dog as well.

When I go to church, I don’t need to bend down and stroke anybody to reassure them that they’re being a good girl and that I love them.

When I come home from an outing, I love coming home to an empty house.

I love talking to myself, so nobody has to listen to me.

I love sitting on the couch by myself to watch TV.

I love it that nobody barks when there’s a noise outside my door.

I love having to hang on to someone’s arm whenever I go somewhere instead of trotting briskly along with a guide dog by my side.

I love hearing “Any news about getting a new dog?”

I’m enjoying a lot of practice choking back tears.

I love calling the guide dog school and hearing that they still don’t have a space for me in a class any time soon.

I’m very patient, but it’s wearing thin.

Just take everything I have written so far, and know that it’s all lies, every line. I would ask for prayers that a new guide who is beautiful and smart and loving becomes available soon. But I don’t believe in those kinds of prayers. You’re not going to influence God one way or another. But if you wish, please pray that I can turn all these lies into positive statements of truth.

Mary Hiland

SeeingItMyWay.com

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir

And

Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available from Amazon

Contributing Columnist for Our Special Magazine

If you’re like me and are just now coming out of “hibernation,” due to the threat of Covid 19, you are feeling a little braver to venture out into the world. What better way to celebrate that freedom than to go to an outdoor concert of classical music. This past Thursday and Friday, my friend Anna and I enjoyed beautiful music performed by the outstanding musicians of ProMusica, a chamber music orchestra.

Every summer for the past 10 years, they have offered a free concert on the grounds of the Franklin Park Conservatory. We bring our chairs and something to eat and plan to get there almost two hours before the concert begins. Musical activities for young children are offered behind the stage about 45 minutes before the concert to help them with the wait. For the grownups who would like an adult beverage they could purchase one during that time as well.

In addition to enjoying a beautiful summer night with friends while soaking up live music from both traditional and contemporary composers, we were invited to stroll among the topiary gardens outside the conservatory before the concert.

Before Anna and I settled in our chairs with our beverages, we checked out some of the creative plant artistry. On Thursday night, the conductor mentioned that one of the musicians had sat on the camel’s back and encouraged us to go take a look. . So on Friday, we did just that.

Now you might wonder how a person can sit on a camel constructed by a live plant, and so was I. The secret was that there is a set of steps behind the camel that you use to climb to find your way to the saddle. Because I’m always thinking of you, dear reader, I just had to sit on that saddle and have my picture taken. Thank you Anna for being my photographer.

The weather had suddenly changed from ungodly hot and humid to pleasantly cool, so we didn’t need the paper fans they distributed as we entered the area. You remember those fans that funeral homes had for their services? But this year, the program was printed on the fans, which made them serve double duty. Even though we didn’t need them to fan ourselves, we kept them to remind us of the names of the soloists and the pieces we heard. Coupons for discounts on tickets for their regular season were also printed on these fans, another stroke of practical creativity.

And one last appropriate addition to this lovely experience was that during one of the pieces about the beauty of spring and summer, a pair of geese flew over, honking to each other, prompting titters of laughter in the audience. But I heard the geese say to each other, “Listen Honey. They’re playing our song.”

By now you know that I lost my dear sweet Dora to cancer on April 3 of this year. Without going into the heartbreaking details, I’ll share with you what comes next. As with any kind of grief, I needed a few weeks to recover from this life-changing loss. Eventually, I was so lost without her that I finally contacted The Seeing Eye to apply for my next partner in life.

Most people who have no experience with dog guides, or guide dogs, as they are often called, have no idea of what goes into the preparation for a new partnership. I’ve been asked when I will go pick up my new dog. It’s not a store where you pick one out, plunk down some money and take the dog home. They don’t realize that months of training have gone into making a puppy into a dog guide. It takes many skills, which a lot of people don’t even notice because they are executed so smoothly with gentle commands.

Dog guides lead their humans around obstacles, slow down and stop at intersections, stay between the lines at a crosswalk, show them where the elevator is, find the doctor’s office in a complicated building, stop at the top of stairs, keep them from getting too close to subway tracks, find their way out of restaurants, lie quietly under the table, don’t beg, don’t chase squirrels, waits patiently while her human works out or swims at the Y, sits quietly at the feet of his human on a bus, in a car, or on a plane, and a myriad other tasks that a pet dog would

not know how to do.

When a puppy at The Seeing Eye breeding station is old enough to be weaned, a “puppy-raising” family adopts her, she lives with that family for about a year. She learns her house manners, how to get along with other dogs, children, and baby humans. She gets to go to stores and restaurants, to the library, to church, and many other public places. She learns to walk on a leash and keep on the sidewalk. She learns to ignore squirrels and birds and all the basics of a well-behaved guide dog in training.

The next stage of her education is to return to The Seeing Eye, where she learns how to guide people who can’t see. This process takes about three months. It’s a complicated course of study, because sometimes she is expected to lean into her harness, and at other times, she is expected to lie quietly under the table until it’s time for the next task. Then comes the day when she and about 20 of her classmates each meet a person who will change their lives again. For the next two weeks, her new person will be giving her commands, instead of her trainer. They will learn together to be a team. Sometimes she will make mistakes and will have to do a certain task over, and sometimes her person will make mistakes, and they will work together from 5:30 in the morning until 8:00 at night. There will be times during the day when she will be allowed to play with her person in their room or go for a stress-free walk around the grounds. At night, she will be expected to sleep in her crate without her doggy friends or her trainer, but her new human will be with her always.

And finally, she will board an airplane with her new person and travel to her new forever home. She will learn a whole new set of skills, like knowing which house is hers and where she is allowed to empty. It’s a very exciting time, a lot of work, and a truly rewarding life.

Meanwhile, I wait; wait for an opening in the class and wait for the trainers to find just the right dog for me.

My darling Dora died of cancer six weeks ago. While there are times that something sets me off, a word, a song, or just the overbearing feeling of loneliness, and I weep, even sob, in self-indulgent sadness, I know that sooner or later, I must replace her with a new Seeing Eye ® dog. I hate using the word replace, because a dog like Dora cannot be replaced. Yet, I can’t go on needing to hold the arm of a kind person to go anywhere outside my home, and I’m terrible at using a white cane. It’s time to go back to the Seeing Eye to train with a new dog to regain my independence.

In this post, I’d like to describe how the process begins, because most people don’t realize what a process it is. To start with, people seeking a guide dog go to a training school such as the Seeing Eye, which is located in Morristown, NJ and stay there for training with their new dog for two to three weeks. Then you might wonder why the person who has had guide dogs before should have to train each time they get a new dog. Each dog has its own personality, strengths in certain skills and must learn to obey the commands of someone he or she has never met before. Here’s where I come in. The dog needs to put their newly learned skills to use with an actual blind person. At the same time, the blind person must adjust to a completely different dog’s personality. Together, they work on becoming a team.

It’s hard work. Their days start at 5:30 in the morning and continue all day until lights out for the pups at about 8:30. They are tired and go to sleep easily . Throughout the day, there are learning opportunities, everything from guiding a person on the sidewalks of Morristown to stopping at corners to lying quietly under the table at mealtimes.

But the first step begins with a visit from an instructor at the blind person’s home. Today, I had that visit, and although I didn’t think I was ready for a new guide dog before, I do now. The instructor and I talked about what kind of breed and gender would be my ideal dog. Of course I said I wanted another Dora. I wish they could have cloned her. After a long talk about my dream dog, we took what is called a “Juno” walk. The instructor held the front end of a harness, and I held the handle, as if there were a dog in it, and we started walking through my neighborhood. I gave her commands, so she got an idea of my style of working with a dog. She asked me if this was the pace I liked, or would I prefer a faster pull or slower.

When the Juno walk was over, so was our visit. The instructor will go back to the Seeing Eye for the next step. As the group of 10 dogs in her class mature and learn the basic skills of guiding, she will keep an eye out for one that will fit my needs and will make a good guide for me. The next step is to wait. I wait for the call when they think they have the right dog for me and that there is an opening in a certain class in the coming months. It could be sooner or later. In the meantime, I wait as the wheels are turning at the Seeing Eye. It’s exciting to think that there just might be a young dog in training as I write, who will be the best one for me. Stay tuned. I plan to give you updates on this new chapter in my life. But don’t think for one minute that I’ve stopped loving Dora. She will be there in my heart with every step I take with the new dog. It will be a challenge for me to not compare them, but I’m ready to give it a try.

Mary Hiland

www.seeingitmyway.com

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir

And

Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available from Amazon