Japan Section Fine Work "With These Darlings (My Guide Dogs)" Katsuko Hamamoto (65, female, Japan) |
Pasha, my first guide dog, came to me in the spring of 1995. She was a very good-natured and intelligent, cream-colored Labrador retriever. After nine years of service, she left me to be replaced by a second guide dog, named Dooly, who is snuggling up to me at home now. He's also a Labrador retriever, but inky black from head to toe. He is a very naughty boy sometimes, but has such a friendly personality that he can melt anyone's heart. These two darlings completely changed my world after I went blind. Together, we've met a lot of people and had many interesting adventures. One time, I lost my way when I was walking in an underground shopping mall in Kyoto. There's a particular atmosphere in underground shopping malls that makes them quite hard to navigate by ear alone. After thinking for a while, I decided to go up above ground. I told Pasha to find the stairs, and she found them straight away. The stairs, however, were strangely quiet and spooky. They felt deserted. As I was climbing the stairs and trying to keep my anxiety in check, I heard the rustling of a newspaper coming from the landing. Suddenly, a man asked me in a gruff voice, "Hey, where are you going?" If I'd had eyesight and could have seen this man, I probably would have run away in terror. But I couldn't, so I just blurted out, "Excuse me! Please take me to a bus stop!" I guess the man must have been quite surprised at seeing us, but he grabbed my arm and led me outside to the bus stop. He took some money out of his pocket, thrust it into my hand and said, "I can't help crying when I see these kind of dogs. Please give him something special to eat." Even though he was probably homeless and jobless, he gave me four \100 coins. This was a very touching encounter for me. This happened the same day I was to give a presentation at a junior high school with a particularly bad reputation. They were to learn about the different perspectives of people with experience of sign language, Braille, wheelchairs or guide dogs. The classroom for the guide dog lecture was filled with about 30 students. I could sense that they were starting to get rowdy. I started to worry about my talk. In the end, they remained surprisingly quiet while listening to my story, and asked me lots of pertinent questions. I was relieved that it had gone so well. After I'd returned to the waiting room, the teachers followed me in and gathered around. They were talking excitedly to the school principal. "I can't believe that student T and student H listened quietly to the presentation for a whole hour!" I found out that all of the children considered "trouble" students had been in the guide dog class. These are the kind of children that usually leave the classroom after ten minutes to go and bother other classes. But I don't think it was my presentation skills that kept those unruly kids quiet for so long. I think it was because of my guide dog, who sat obediently, without moving, and kept an eye on them. Those lovely, strong eyes must have kept them nailed to the spot. Dooly did a great job as the guest presenter. One summer's day, I went to give a talk at a gravel extraction company. It was a rather unusual situation. The people who were lined up to hear about my guide dog were a group of fellows who spend their days driving dump trucks filled with gravel. Shortly after I began my talk, the hall filled with a strangely echoing silence. It was afternoon on a summer's day, so I figured that everyone was taking a nap while being lulled to sleep by my story. I started to lose my concentration. But as soon as I finished my story, the audience burst into a surprisingly loud round of applause. This is what the company president told me in the waiting room: "You can't possibly take a nap if someone who works so hard is staring at you. Thanks to you, my plan will work. As it happens, today's when we give out the summer bonuses. I figured that everyone would take their bonuses straight home if they heard your story and saw your hard-working guide dog. It's very common for some of the men to just waste their entire salary on gambling or drinking. But tonight, every family will be happy to gather around a father who brought home a full bonus." I was so happy to hear his kind words. Thanks to my guide dog, I once had a chance to meet an acharya(religious teacher) on Hiei-zan. He was a virtuous Buddhist monk who fulfilled the sennichi kaihou(wandering in the mountains for one thousand days. i.e., samskara, or "rites of passage"), an extremely ascetic practice that involves praying every day. He told me that being blind is a tough kind of ascetic training, which you must continue practicing until you die. I felt indebted to him for giving me such deep words of encouragement. Perhaps I cannot aspire to achieve anything as grand as world peace. But I can remember to cherish the small pleasures of life and ponder the meaning of his words-"being blind is a kind of ascetic training"-while pure-hearted Dooly stays silently at my side. |
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