When i was about seven years old, I read a fascinating book, unusual for me considering I wasn't really much for reading books (and still aren't). I read this one several times, mostly for the story but also for two very secret codes that no one else knew. I learned them to the extent that throughout my schooling, I could use either one of them quite proficiently. One of the codes was Braille, the other was the Manual Alphabet. The name of the book was "the story of Helen Keller". It also gave me a lifetime of wanting to learn the entire American Sign Language. It would take fifteen years after first reading the book, but I would eventually learn some of this amazing language.
Now we jump to a time two years ago. My boss at the time, a truck driver and breeder of Great Danes, knowing I was very much an animal lover, asked if I'd be interested in taking a deaf female great dane he'd rescued from another breeder. The four month old puppy, a beautiful version of the coloring known as Harlequin, needed patience and extensive training. After several weeks working with her virtually every free moment, I was going to do something I'd never once considered: I was going to give up on another living creature. I wasn't getting through. Nothing was working. I was getting truly frustrated because she didn't seem to be catching on. I was seriously considering sending her back to my boss, who would find her another home. Maybe I and Evony weren't supposed to connect... I told my mom of this plan, and she, the one who taught me my love of animals, asked me to give the puppy just a little while longer.
It was while I was sitting in the living room shortly after that, checking the schedule of the satellite TV that I noticed the title "the miracle worker". Very familiar to the story of Anne Sullivan and Helen Keller (favorite book, remember), I switched it over to the movie. I watched it, taping it at the same time, then sat there a long time afterward. One idea of the movie stayed with me: If Annie Sullivan gave up, she was Helen Keller's last chance. Helen would be sent to an insane asylum (a common practise at the time for severely/multiple handicapped people). If, throughout the conflict, she had let go of that little hand, Helen Keller would have been just another sightless, soundless face in an asylum, instead of a leader and inspiration to all. Annie was the only one who saw intelligence behind those sightless eyes. She just had to get through to it. I looked at Evony, the puppy I had considered naming Helen or Keller, in honor of Helen Keller, and knew I couldn't give up and let go of that little hand...
Evony is now a two and a half year old, happy, healthy (36 inches at the shoulder, 150 pounds!) dog. Without any knowledge of signals used by dog trainers, I taught her American Sign Language. Her vocabulary is now sixteen signed commands. She adores anyone she meets, favorite is the kids who are fascinated by this giant white dog. When they ask if they can pet her, I request that they approach from the front so she can see them, because she can't hear. Then their fascination grows: a deaf dog. Adults are amazed that this huge dog, the personification of affection, understands American Sign Language. My answer is the same: "She's very intelligent. Just took some patience..." Do I see myself as a male Annie Sullivan, teaching a canine Helen Keller to lead the world? No. Her mission is to teach everyone to get along, and that they should all stop and pet large white dogs whenever possible. She does prove, however, what is possible when you're inspired. What a mistake I may have made, if not for this movie airing when it did.
Now we jump to a time two years ago. My boss at the time, a truck driver and breeder of Great Danes, knowing I was very much an animal lover, asked if I'd be interested in taking a deaf female great dane he'd rescued from another breeder. The four month old puppy, a beautiful version of the coloring known as Harlequin, needed patience and extensive training. After several weeks working with her virtually every free moment, I was going to do something I'd never once considered: I was going to give up on another living creature. I wasn't getting through. Nothing was working. I was getting truly frustrated because she didn't seem to be catching on. I was seriously considering sending her back to my boss, who would find her another home. Maybe I and Evony weren't supposed to connect... I told my mom of this plan, and she, the one who taught me my love of animals, asked me to give the puppy just a little while longer.
It was while I was sitting in the living room shortly after that, checking the schedule of the satellite TV that I noticed the title "the miracle worker". Very familiar to the story of Anne Sullivan and Helen Keller (favorite book, remember), I switched it over to the movie. I watched it, taping it at the same time, then sat there a long time afterward. One idea of the movie stayed with me: If Annie Sullivan gave up, she was Helen Keller's last chance. Helen would be sent to an insane asylum (a common practise at the time for severely/multiple handicapped people). If, throughout the conflict, she had let go of that little hand, Helen Keller would have been just another sightless, soundless face in an asylum, instead of a leader and inspiration to all. Annie was the only one who saw intelligence behind those sightless eyes. She just had to get through to it. I looked at Evony, the puppy I had considered naming Helen or Keller, in honor of Helen Keller, and knew I couldn't give up and let go of that little hand...
Evony is now a two and a half year old, happy, healthy (36 inches at the shoulder, 150 pounds!) dog. Without any knowledge of signals used by dog trainers, I taught her American Sign Language. Her vocabulary is now sixteen signed commands. She adores anyone she meets, favorite is the kids who are fascinated by this giant white dog. When they ask if they can pet her, I request that they approach from the front so she can see them, because she can't hear. Then their fascination grows: a deaf dog. Adults are amazed that this huge dog, the personification of affection, understands American Sign Language. My answer is the same: "She's very intelligent. Just took some patience..." Do I see myself as a male Annie Sullivan, teaching a canine Helen Keller to lead the world? No. Her mission is to teach everyone to get along, and that they should all stop and pet large white dogs whenever possible. She does prove, however, what is possible when you're inspired. What a mistake I may have made, if not for this movie airing when it did.