Sunny Day's Story

The remarkable story of a dog that went blind when 12 years old, and lived contently for over 3 more years, until almost 16 years old.

Sunny Day New York, a healthy 10-week-old yellow lab puppy, was named by my son Avery on his 7th birthday. Sunny Day grew up in the Old Lyme, Connecticut countryside with 2 cats, 2 horses and a pony. She enjoyed regular visits to New York City, where she encountered every breed of dog imaginable. Sunny Day didn't appear to have any vision issues for many years, albeit she never liked to go up or down stairs, and was terrible at catching food or frisbees when tossed her way (i.e. she may have had depth of field issues early on). By the time she was 5 years old, Sunny Day had lost significant vision in her left eye, and was getting eye drops prescribed by her veterinarian. By the time Sunny was 8, she was completely blind in the left eye, which had started to develop a white fog glaze; neverthless Sunny Day was happy and carefree as ever - 'grazing' in the manure pile and running with abandon in the fields. As Sunny approached 10 years old, limited vision in her right eye had become noticable. She avoided steps, in part due to sore knees in the rear, but was still remarkably strong, fast, and very happy.

Sunny Day was 12 years old, in Old Lyme while I was overseas, when she suddenly went completely blind. Most likely a stroke, perhaps something she ate - the vet could not explain why - but it happened. There was no way to reverse it. Sunny Day refused to go up steps, and would leap down them - which was a problem in the Old Lyme house. Avery was distressed - his mother was going to have to put Sunny Day down unless we could find another home. Given the situation, I returned immediately. Together we began to learn: Sunny Day learned the tricks to being a blind dog; and I learned the tricks to being a seeing-eye human. The next three years of her life were a blessing. Sunny Day's gratitude was clear. She understood.

Sunny Day knew every step of the way to the Central Park Boathouse Cafe, and would happily lead her dog-walker the 1.5 miles throught the park in anticipation of french fries and fresh water. Sometimes on a walk, Sunny Day would stop for no apparent reason; then, I'd hear it - and together we would listen to the conversational squabble of a nearby flock of birds, or the squeals and barks of squirrels in the trees above. She enlightened me to simple things in life: to walk slowly, to hear the birds, to stop and smell the flowers.

I am eternally grateful. Sunny Day lived a good long life despite being visually impaired, and died peacefully a week before her 16th birthday, having changed my perspective on life's priorities and the meaning of love.