Terence L Anderson

On occasion I find objects a mystery, and where I am other than where I expect to be. Normal gatherings of people seem a cacophony of sound. Blindness can distort reality, I know, having lost my lifelong struggle with retina disease. Fortunately life has improved for the blind, accessible technology making most of the difference. Even so, nothing yet has been devised to replace the cane. As you might expect, the right guide dog in most ways far surpasses the cane. Canes for the blind are designed to find things, period. Guide dogs go around things. Proper use of the cane is difficult to master, and for most, cane travel remains an arduous process. No one wanted to pet my cane. It seemed everyone wanted to pet Kirby. Kirby liked airports, escalators, and crowded sidewalks. He liked steep trails, and restaurants. It was our bond, enabling us to work as we did that led me to envision the story I had to tell. My first book, Dog Talk, arose from my understanding of this bond, entwined with a little distortion of my own. The sequel, Different Shades of Hardness is available now.
I lost Kirby to lymphoma in October of 2019. Never quitting, he fought it, working up to the last day of his life. Kirby never failed to harness up. We sensed when the other was tired, and made allowance. The time writing was long, but seldom lonely, Kirby often asleep at my feet. He lives in my heart, a companion forever.
In August of last year Cruiser entered my life, huge good fortune, securing a guide dog sometimes taking years. We bonded instantly; another big yellow lab, intelligent, insistent, a personality all his own. Cruiser traverses streets and trails with equal skill, such a pleasure to move without the cane. Once again, people engage, blindness not viewed as contagious: a wonderful thing.

afghanistan    desperation    opium    psychotic    strength    tension    violence