One of the dogs we owned at the time was Vikki, a little brown poodle. She was quiet, timid, sweet natured and totally blind.
She was my favourite and whenever I called her she would toddle up to me, wagging her tail and would snuggle into my arms. With so many dogs around her and not being able to see, she would stand and shake when they were jumping and barking. If I picked her up and spoke to her she would relax and bury her head in any crevice she could find, such as under my arm or in my neck, as though trying to shut out the noise.
When the time was right Sylvie had her mated and she produced two puppies. However, within a few days they were found dead in the kennel. It appears that Vikki had killed them and eaten away their front legs. I often wonder if it was nature at work, maybe she had an animal instinct that they had the same genetic condition as her, which had caused her blindness.
Soon after this, Vikki was to disappear.Noticing one day that she wasn’t in the old stone pantry with the other dogs, I looked high and low, checking all the kennels with a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. She was nowhere to be seen and I was coming to the realisation that, to Sylvie, she had outlived her usefulness, was not providing the necessary puppies to earn her keep.
I hardly dared to ask Sylvie where she was but plucking up the courage, I approached her. Looking sheepish she just turned away and mumbled that she’d sold her to another breeder. I don’t know if this was the truth and didn’t dare think about what the truth could be.
I simply turned away and cried deep down inside myself, devastated at the loss of my sweet, frightened little friend.