Only 2% of NOTL streets are properly marked for blind people

Jodey Porter
Special to The Lake Report

After almost a month at the world-famous Seeing Eye Guide Dog School in New Jersey, I am on my way home to begin my life with Doc, my new four-legged companion.

The story of my blindness started some 60 years ago when I lost most of my eyesight as a child. Then just three years ago, after a series of surgeries, I lost all my vision. Completely.

The journey to guide dog school is the culmination of an incredibly challenging effort to return to independence and normalcy. Both Doc and I have learned a great deal. And we are both scared to death of what’s ahead.

We’re coming home.

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I really didn’t want to come home. I don’t think anybody in our class wanted to come home.

It’s not that the school wasn’t tough, because it was wickedly tough. But it was a world where blindness was understood. 

And none of the worlds we live in are worlds where blindness is understood.

And, believe it or not, Niagara-on-the-Lake is really bad for blind people’s accessibility. 

For my practices with Doc, the school couldn’t find me a town as poorly marked as NOTL, in all of New Jersey. Only two per cent of the streets in Niagara-on-the-Lake are appropriately marked for blind people. And even those are wrongly placed.

I am beyond anxious.

When the Seeing Eye people came here to assess me, they were shocked at how poorly adapted we are here.

Three per cent of our population have less than under 20 per cent vision. Thankfully, I have a battalion of friends to help.

On Good Friday of the Easter Weekend, Doc and I arrived home. We were scared to death.

The dog was just trying to figure out which end of the house was up.

Like any young dog in a new place, Doc did what I call the “zoomies” — they lose their minds, running around madly. 

It was uncomfortable, it was bizarre. A new world.

That same weekend, a friend walked with me and Doc to Easter service at St. Mark’s Church. Just getting there was an adventure. I was dressed for Easter in my cute little pink dress and cute little pink shoes. Big mistake.

The dog was wildly enthusiastic. All the smells were new. All the people were new. As we rushed down the street, Doc was very excited and I was literally skiing in my little pink shoes.

Thankfully my friend and I were able to swap shoes — her runners for my little pink ones — and we made it to church.

We settled the dog down. All good. Except that every time the organ played, he thought it was a car crash. And every time we stood up during the service, he thought it was time to go and enthusiastically pulled me toward the door. 

In the weeks since we’ve been home, we have both become much better at our jobs.

Early on, not so much.

A month or so ago he took a sudden right turn on a nearby street. I thought it was wrong, but I wasn’t focused. I got all turned around. We headed down what I thought was a sidewalk.

But, in fact, we were in someone’s garden. Their security camera went on. They were in Muskoka but, on their cellphone, they could see I was sort of wandering around their back garden. 

They recognized me and called a friend in town to help, but she was in Toronto. So, she called her husband who was in a dental chair in Niagara Falls. They finally connected with another friend, who ended his tennis game, to help.

We were saved. It takes a village … 

Another fun story. Doc and I and my white cane were at the bank trying to pay my taxes. A young teller asked me for my driver’s licence. Really. 

My friend quipped, “The dog hasn’t learned to drive yet.”

It has been quite a challenge getting to know the streets. But we are getting better. I am a lot more focused.

And I now use a program on my phone called Voice Vista that tells me “Next intersection Rye Street.” So, at least I know I am going in the right direction.

And Doc is learning, too. He learns things so fast. I have to learn how to trust his decision-making.

I needed to get Doc to look for places for me to sit when I enter a room. So, I taught him a new command: “Chair.”

At my next Rotary Club meeting, I said: “Doc, chair.” Doc dutifully found me a chair. Unfortunately, there was someone in it and I almost sat on his lap. 

Oh well, more to learn.

And he is learning.

A few walks ago, I was with a Doc and a sighted friend along a Commons path. The friend saw a bicycle approaching and quietly suggested that I tell Doc to “Hup left” — which means move to the left. The dog hupped me to the left, safely onto the grass. 

Now, he does it every time there is a bicycle. And then he wags his tail and wants to be thanked, as if to say: “I’m smarter than you are.”

It’s quite a partnership. It’s good to be home.

NEXT: Having Doc as a friend and colleague is changing my life. I will try to explain how.

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.