Jodey Porter
Special to The Lake Report

I’ve been mostly blind, most of my life. This past March I travelled to New Jersey to meet the canine companion that will enable me to recapture my life. By week two our student complement is down by one. This is tough and not for everyone.

By Sunday, the remaining group have all passed a pretty tough solo walk, a 16-block route navigating, crossing streets, dealing with traffic, people, dogs and other distractions, some created by the school and others just plain part of the world we live in.

On Monday, we have all started a more difficult new route, nicknamed the “Nightmare on Elm Street.” It is about five kilometres, has super difficult crossings, a busy commercial district with signs and street furniture, deep tree wells, uneven curbs and lots of noise and confusion. It is around a hill in the centre of town.

So how do we do this? And who are we? 

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Our student group ranges in age from a 25-year-old Cornell graduate, now a civil rights lawyer, working in Washington for the ACLU, to a salty, hilariously funny, 80-year-old retired dump truck driver from Rhode Island. 

We span the ages, educational levels and just about every reach of humanity. 

But we all share a traumatic and frightening loss of vision in the world in which we live. What brings us together is a united desire to live more independently, without needing another person to help us.

We want to live fully, be who we are and give back. This is something we share across every social origin, language, country and whatever our life experience has been.

So, who are the dogs? 

Well, they are oddly paired with each of us. 

Hayley, the wonderful young civil rights lawyer, has a beautiful, petite, black Labrador retriever. Named Paisley, she is outgoing, delicate and full of energy. She suits Hayley’s personality to a T and will be a brilliant companion as Hayley makes her way from courtroom to courtroom in Washington. 

Our retired dump truck driver is an absolute hoot. He is beyond politically incorrect, so much fun it hurts. He gets everyone to belly laugh all the time and, guess what, his dog’s name is Rubble. 

Accidents like this just plain happen here. It’s a bit bizarre, but it seems everything is just meant to be.

There’s Cheryl from Saskatchewan and her chocolate lab, Éclair. And Meredith, the lawyer and science-fiction writer with her German shepherd Sully. 

There’s Justin with his dog Bear and Aleeha with Dillard, Alexandria from small-town Texas has Dexter and Rosemary from Pennsylvania has Dallas. And on it goes.

I’ve already told you a bit about Doc, but what you don’t know is that he is one of four brothers all assigned here in class to four young women. I am the oldest of the group and the youngest is Alexandria, who is only 31, with two young daughters.

The four brothers are: Dallas, Dexter, Dillard and, finally, Doc. 

They are all very large, solid golden crosses. Three of them look like black labs and one looks a bit more like a golden retriever. They are all strong, share characteristics of courage and energy, and all love to be together under the dining room table when possible.

When we meet our dogs, they are only five days out of the kennel and their incredibly strict regimen of training led by dedicated instructors.

Each instructor receives a group of dogs a year in advance of our attending school. At age eight weeks, the pups are taken from their mothers and put in a capable foster home to learn about how to live in a house, socialization, family and all the normal stuff that doggies need to know. 

At 13 months, when the trainer considers them ready, they are separated from their first home and returned to the campus of the guide dog school. 

They are assessed for their worthiness and capacity to become a guide dog. Seeing Eye has an incredible success rate of its dogs becoming guide dog capable — more than 70 per cent.

Daniel, my instructor, got his dogs for training more than a year ago. All eight dogs are still guide dog eligible and that is extraordinary. 

This is a family, make no mistake, and the dogs and people and teachers and managers and historians and funders all move together toward a single goal: freedom.

• Next: We go home. In many ways, that means Doc and I start all over again, overcoming the idiosyncrasies of our little town. What kind of mayhem can we get into?

NOTL resident Jodey Porter is a former provincial assistant deputy minister of health and member of the Ontario Human Rights Commission. Her story is told in collaboration with writer Tim Taylor.