Sunday, August 1, 2010
Hannah is blind, or nearly so. Her world is the house, the porch and the deck. When the deck was finished last year, she increased her world by another 24 x 16 feet, and loves to lay on it in the sun. Where I am, when home, she is. If I leave the porch to do chores, and she is out, she sits at the edge of the steps, staring into space, waiting to catch a dim sight, or hear a sound of me as I go past. Every once in a while I hear an insistent, staccato bark to remind me that my girl is waiting for me. I call to her from the pasture when I hear those barks, to reassure her I haven't forgotten her, and am hurrying. Sometimes I will carry her down into the yard, but she becomes disoriented by the feel of the grass, and all the smells. She will begin to run in circles, and become frantic, her breathing going heavier and heavier until she is groaning, so we never do this for but a minute or two. Once on the deck she is calmer, and she will collapse and sleep next to our feet. She doesn't like to be held, like Abby, who cuddles on our laps, but to be near us, where she can be stroked, and to sleep with her body alongside one of us where she feels reassurance. She needs drops every day to keep what little sight she has. Soon her world will be completely dark, we are afraid. She came to us from a rescue, where she and her four pug companions had been placed by their vet, their mama had been diagnosed with cancer and had died suddenly. We were so blessed to have her come into our lives, to be a companion for first Addie Mae, and then our new little Abby. She is Mama's Little Doll... our little Hannah Mama, our little Hannah Jean.