Some of you may be familiar with Andy, one of the two Seeing Eye Dogs featured in my wife, Marina’s, book, Gretel and Andy, God’s Gift The Lives of Two Seeing Eye Dogs. After several days of him obviously not feeling well and after a couple of says of eating seldom (this was a Labrador!) we took him to the vet, using the ramp we’d saved from the last days of his predecessor, Gretel. Ultrasound produced the verdict: an aggressive tumor in his spleen that was spilling blood into his abdomen. He might live another day or two.
Andy was a remarkable dog. He was Marina’s shadow. He was funny, yet serious, especially when it came to his work. Marina and I would sit on the couch for me to read scripture to her. Andy, asleep in the bedroom, would hear the word “Bible” and get up, head for the living room, get on the couch with us without asking permission, and settle down to listen. If we hugged anywhere, he’d come squeaking and work to get between us. I figure it was his insistence on being part of a group hug or his insistence that Marina was HIS girl and I’d better let her loose. We’d go to Walmart and I would park the car away from the entrance but under a tree that Andy might want to use. Marina would tell him “To the door”, and off he would lead her: a jog to the right and then straight down the parking lot row, with a brief diversion to indent in to a vacant space and then return to going straight to the door. There are several doors in and out; Andy always got Marina to the right door. Taking her to the swimming pool, I’d watch him take her to the proper door where she could just stick out her hand and the door handle was right there. He snored when he slept and knew whenever yogurt was lifted from the refrigerator.
The lifeguard staff at the Osceola Aquatic Center loved Andy and got him a cushioned bed so when he “supervised” Marina’s swimming he would not be lying on the concrete deck. He was comfortable in church; I didn’t mind Andy sleeping through my sermons. When I got out of bed in the mornings, Andy would come around to my side of the bed to wish me a good day. He and I enjoyed good walks together when we took walks on occasions like during Marina’s hospitalization. Saying goodbye was hard; I cry easily and for Andy’s departure I cried hard.
Seeing Eye Dogs are more than dogs. They are intuitive, forgiving, incredibly smart (they understand an astonishing number of words, concepts and phrases), and so well trained. We’d been in our new home in Osceola less than four weeks and Andy could bring Marina to our driveway and to our back yard gate.
Will Andy reunite with Gretel now? I’d like to think so. And with us, too, someday? I fervently hope so.