If cats have nine lives, Lucy basically has nine cats. (Kendrick gave this joke a B. Whatever, I think it’s funny.). To explain, allow me to briefly enumerate for you the situations in which my twelve-year-old, eight-pound teacup shih tzu has eluded death:
- A brief period of ownership by a person who was willing to “lend” her six-week-old puppy to an acquaintance (me) so she could go to London, and who then decided not to return. Ever.
- An incident where she escaped from my house and hid under my car, resulting in an escaping eyeball.
- A second incident a week later where I came home from work and her excitement upped her blood pressure to the point where the eyeball escaped once again. (That was the end of the eyeball.)
- A tick situation that y0u can read about here, if you want (omg).
- A nighttime stroll through our coyote-filled neighborhood that ended with a stay in our local shelter.
- The discovery of a tennis-ball-sized lump on her neck that I was certain was a death sentence, but turned out to be no big deal (it was an abscess, which is categorically horrifying, but treatable).
- A two-week period during which she walked into walls and spun in circles with her head stuck at a permanent 45-degree angle. This HAD to be bad. Like, really bad. And yet? It turned out – again – to be “no big deal,” according to our vet. (It’s called “old dog disease.” Really.)
- A leg that broke for no apparent reason and that rejected three different casts (they literally just fell off). But then it just got better anyway. On its own.
And now?
Now Lucy has cured herself of blindness.
This is Lucy back in 2011, taking a ride in our son’s stroller. Look at that bright, sparkly eye! So shiny. So intrepid.
And this is Lucy a few months ago. Her eyeball is white because of a cataract (which, sure, we could have removed, but she gets around just fine and I have zero desire to put my elderly dog through another surgery).
This is Lucy this morning.
Please note the eye.
So here’s what happened: Last night Kendrick and I were lying in bed, and all of a sudden he said “Wait – Lucy can see!” I picked her up, and…her cataract was gone. Just gone. And I’m not positive, but it really seems to me like she can see again.
I had not been aware that cataracts self-corrected. I mean, they’re a clouding of the lens itself, not a separate entity that can come and go. …Right?
Google wasn’t a ton of help, but the search query “my dog’s cataract disappeared” brought me to a page where someone explained that the lens can – and I’m sorry if this freaks you out; it totally freaks me out, if it’s any consolation – actually drop off and land at the “floor of the eyeball” (omg I’m sorry). This is bad when the lens is sort of pushed towards the front, and can cause pain and all sorts of terrible side-effects. When the lens is in the back, though – as Lucy’s is – it is apparently kind of…fine.
So literally what happened was that part of my dog’s single remaining eye fell off, but in Lucy’s world this is…yes…
No big deal.
P.S. Yes obviously I’m going to check on this with a vet not named Google.
P.P.S. While I was writing this post, I said to Kendrick, “Hey, who was it that could cure people of blindness by touching them…? Like, the literary reference?”
Jesus. The answer is JESUS. Draw your own conclusions.
