2 Feet, 4 Paws & 1 God

Abbot was my first guide dog  and as such he was not just a guide, he was instrumental in helping me to come to terms with my blindness, to accept it, indeed to embrace it. Abbot stayed with us after his retirement and lived on till he was almost sixteen. The first couple of years after his retirement were amongst some of the most difficult in my life but when I came home with my new dog, Jarvis, Abbot was always there checking to see if I was ok. Sadly in August 2015 the old boy finally passed away but I feel his presence with me every day, looking out for me just like he always did.

As someone with a background in Celtic Christianity the fact that I had been given a dog called "Abbot" was never lost on me, indeed it was one of the ways I felt God present in the process.

You might ask why I loved him so much? 

I loved the way Abbot filled a room. His presence was and still is a tangible thing. When he entered a room I could almost hear him shout,
‘TA DA!’

I loved the way he leapt into our bedroom as it began to get light. Every day was brand new adventure to him and his enthusiasm was infectious. Even on a cold winter’s morning at six o’clock Abbot would bound into the room at the sound of the alarm, ready for a new set of mischief and it always made me grin.

Days when my sight was at its worst and depression was tapping on my shoulder, Abbot would deposit a toy at my feet as if to say ‘Stuff them, Dad.’ Who could stay unhappy when my boy was grinning at them?

Abbot had an in-built sense of when my sight was particularly poor. He slowed his pace down, he moved in close to my leg and I could feel the twist in his harness as he looked up to check if I was OK. 

I loved walking him through a busy shopping area. These used to be the places I was most frightened of. Now I can almost hear him shouting ‘Coming through!’ The crowds would part and he would give a little swagger. I'd sometimes go out in the dark just because I could. I used to be scared of the dark like a child is scared of the bogeyman but Abbot has reclaimed the darkness.

I loved 8 o’clock in the evening, which was ‘treat time’. Abbot would go and sit by the cupboard and point with his nose:
‘It’s in there, Dad.’

I loved watching him sleep too. Abbot’s dream life seemed very exciting. I don’t know what went on in his dreams but I’ve spent many happy hours just watching him.

He was such a happy lad. In thirteen years I never saw him in a grumpy mood. He threw himself into everything with boundless enthusiasm. Most of all, I just loved the fact that he was very much still a real dog. He loved to do the things all dogs do: tail-chasing, running and playing, getting into mischief... 

I just loved it all. He was always far from being just a mobility tool. He was a free-thinking, sentient being who worked for me out of choice, out of love – and it’s a love that was and indeed still is mutual and deeply felt. No one had ever mistreated him in any way. Abbot was reared and trained by kindness and it’s kindness that he always responded to. He worked for me because he cared deeply for me in the same way that I cared for him. We’re brothers – a true partnership built on mutual love and respect. Every time he put on his harness and came to work was out of choice. He gave freely and I very gratefully accepted. As my friend, Ethne, will tell you, we were the perfect match...  both nutters.

Many dog owners will tell you they have the best dog in the world. They’re bloody liars. I was and still am.