Retirement

"There is neither happiness nor unhappiness in this world; there is merely the comparison of one state to the other. Only a man who has felt ultimate despair is capable of feeling ultimate bliss."—Alexandre Dumas Today I felt the bottom of that pit of sadness and despair, for one door closed, with the hope and anticipation of another one opening. I retired Navajo today after 2848 days of being my eyes, my companion, my best friend. The truth is, these bonds are never broken but rather only grow stronger. As he so valiantly watched out for me over these almost eight years, it was my job to watch out for him, giving him the opportunity to rest and live out his years in retirement. Over the last few days, he worked until the very end—shopping, going out to eat with the family, enjoying every moment of it. As I previously wrote, he has slowed down, his hips give him trouble, but we compensated for that as necessary. Last night we went to Logan’s to eat and with that complete I took the harness off one last time. It was sad, scary, life changing; I couldn’t explain to him the significance of the event, just reward him for another night of hard work. I knew in the morning I’d get on the plane to Maryland alone, he’d stay in the hands of my mom and we would be apart for the first time in almost eight years. The night was filled with tears of happy memories and sadness of the pending separation, but I was comforted by the knowledge that he would be taken care of. The morning came early for my 6:55 AM flight and it had been agreed that my mom would stay home with Navajo and dad would take me to the airport. Separation didn’t come easy. I sat in the floor for a while talking to him, crying some more, and building my strength to say goodbye. I finally forced myself up to finish packing and moved on to the kitchen for the final goodbye. I hugged and kissed him and told him it would be okay, his tail wagging with his normal happiness, and I was finally forced to walk away. Mom took him into another room, so he didn’t have to see me walk out of the house. We left, no harness to fill my hand nor a dog to guide my way, only the hope of tomorrow to come, that somewhere tonight another dog rests in a kennel to be my next set of eyes, to be another light in the darkness. No dog will ever replace Navajo, just as Navajo didn’t replace Asher or Phil. A successor dog will step up and shoulder the responsibility of our next adventure wherever that leads us, allowing Navajo to take his seat to rest. For every door closed, there will be another one opening. Unhappiness and sadness always have a path, no matter how tough the walk is, that leads to happiness. Tomorrow that path will take me back to The Seeing Eye.