Jan navigated the world through a symphony of sounds, a tapestry of smells, and the feel of the ground beneath his paws. He was blind, and had been since birth. He didn’t know the vibrant hues of a sunset or the playful dance of a butterfly’s wings. His world was one of whispers and echoes, of warm breezes and the comforting scent of familiar places.
But Jan also experienced a different kind of darkness, a darkness that came not from his lack of sight, but from the words he overheard. He couldn’t see the expressions on people’s faces, but he could hear the change in their voices, the shift in their tone. He could sense the pity, the discomfort, sometimes even the disgust.
He’d often hear hushed whispers as people passed his kennel at the shelter. “That poor blind dog,” they’d say, their voices tinged with sadness. But sometimes, the tone was different. He’d hear words like “creepy,” “unnatural,” or even “scary.” He didn’t understand why. He was just a dog, full of love and longing for connection.
He’d listen to the happy barks of the other dogs, the excited chatter of children, the gentle voices of potential adopters. He longed to be chosen, to feel the warmth of a loving home, the security of belonging. But time and time again, he was overlooked.
He’d curl up in his small bed, his head resting on his paws, a quiet sadness settling in his heart. He couldn’t see his reflection, but he could feel the weight of other people’s perceptions. He’d think, Do people really hate blind dogs that much? Is it something about me that makes them uncomfortable?
The thought was a constant ache, a heavy weight on his small shoulders. He didn’t understand why his lack of sight made him less desirable. He was playful, affectionate, and eager to please. He loved to snuggle close, to feel the gentle touch of a hand stroking his fur. He loved to listen to the sound of a human voice, the rhythm of their heartbeat.
He just wanted to be loved, to be accepted, to be seen for the loving, loyal companion he truly was. He hadn’t chosen to be blind. It was simply a part of him, just like his soft fur and his wagging tail. He just wanted to be seen, not for his blindness, but for the loving, loyal companion he truly was.
Despite the sadness and confusion, a tiny spark of hope still flickered within Jan. He’d greet every approaching sound with a tentative wag of his tail, his nose twitching with anticipation. He believed, deep down, that somewhere, someone would see past his blindness and recognize the loving, loyal heart that beat within him. He hoped that someone would understand that true sight is not limited to the eyes, and that love is blind, in the best possible way.
