Blind loyalty

Guide dogs aren't just for the visually impaired. Anna Carey visits a canine training centre in Cork'You have to trust a dog

Guide dogs aren't just for the visually impaired. Anna Carey visits a canine training centre in Cork'You have to trust a dog. I'm so used to doing things for myself that that was hard'

Meet Clive, a "goldendoodle". His mother was a poodle, his father was a golden retriever and he is a delightful mixture of the two. Smart, serene and good-natured, he looks a bit like a blond Irish wolfhound. But there's more to Clive than a fluffy face. He's training to be a guide dog. If all goes well, in a year he'll change someone's life forever.

Until 1976 guide dogs weren't an option for the vast majority of visually impaired people. That they are now a common sight on Irish streets is thanks to a Cork businessman called Jim Dennehy. When Dennehy, then aged 30, lost his sight in 1969 he thought his life was over. "I knew nothing about blindness," he says. "Back then most people thought blind people were completely dependent on others. They didn't see blind people walking around the streets."

Dennehy discovered that no help was available for any blind person who wanted simply to move around independently. Eventually, he heard of a rehabilitation centre in Torquay, in southwestern England, where he learned to get around using a long cane and realised that "there was life after blindness". He also visited a guide-dog training centre in Exeter, not far from Torquay, and was so impressed that he arranged to return a few months later to train with a guide dog of his own. "The very first morning that I walked around with my dog I forgot I was blind," he says. He vowed that when he got home he would do everything in his power to establish a training centre in Ireland. And he did.

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He joined forces with Mary Dunlop, who had raised funds to send blind people to get guide dogs in England. They initially tried to persuade the Government to found an Irish centre for guide-dog training, but to no avail. It took several false starts and a lot of fundraising before the Cork centre finally opened, in 1976.

Thirty years later, Irish Guide Dogs for the Blind has given hundreds of visually impaired people back their independence, although even now aid from the Government covers just a fifth of the centre's annual costs of €3 million. "People are so generous," says Padraig Mallon, the organisation's chief executive. "Not only do they give money but they give time; the board chairman, Charlie Daly, has been volunteering here for 20 years."

It costs more than €33,000 to train each animal; many of puppies won't meet the high standards required to be a guide dog. "You can normally tell in the first six to eight weeks whether a dog will make it," says Ken Brydon, the organisation's training manager. "But anything can happen to make them lose their nerve - being harassed by people in the street, something falling off a lorry."

By the time a dog has passed the course, he says, "it will have learned to use its initiative and make decisions about when to stop or go around an obstacle". Then it will be matched with an owner, who must spend three weeks training at the centre. (The centre also offers courses in general mobility and independent living skills for the visually impaired.)

Léan Kennedy, who is 26, finished her guide-dog training three months ago; already, she says, she can't imagine life without Murphy, her jovial companion. "I'm mad about him," she says. "I feel like he's become a part of me; it's like we're part of each other." Kennedy decided to try a dog after starting work at Irish Guide Dogs for the Blind, as client-services administrator, and at first she found it hard to rely on canine assistance. "You have to put your trust in the dog," she says. "With the cane you're doing it yourself, you can control it. But with a dog you have to just trust him. I'm so used to doing things for myself that that was hard."

But Murphy quickly gained her trust. "I feel like I have more confidence and more freedom," she says. "I'm not living in fear of walking into another ladder. I mean, I was getting around fine, but [ using a dog] is not as stressful. He gets me around obstacles that I don't know are there." She still uses the cane sometimes, though. "You can't bring a dog to a nightclub on a Saturday," she says. "It's not fair. So I think everyone should have a cane, too."

Guide dogs can win over even those who were previously anti-canine. Mary Murphy, who lost 99 per cent of her sight in 1999, was scared of dogs before she met Sophie, five years ago. "At first I was so petrified I was shaking," she says. Her trainer told her she'd get over the fear with training, and he was right, although she's still not a big fan of other dogs. "When we meet another dog Sophie sits next to me and looks up, as if to say: 'Don't worry. I'm really going to mind you now.' " Sophie has become a member of Mary Murphy's family. "Losing your sight is a horrible thing, but she makes up for the bad times. She makes my life complete."

Guide dogs aren't just for the visually impaired. The organisation has begun an assistance-dogs programme for children with autism. When out and about, the children can wear belts that are attached by cords to jackets that the dogs wear. If a child gets agitated and tries to run away, the dog sits down, grounding the child without the need for direct physical contact. One of the first children to take part in the scheme is seven-year-old Aaron O'Sullivan, whose father, Michael, says the family's life has been transformed in the year since they met Bonnie the dog.

"It's made a huge difference. It's given us independence, because we can do more things as a family," he says. "We can go out together for walks and into shopping centres. In the past Aaron would have tried to run around, and he has no awareness of danger, so we were always having to hold on to him and chase after him. Now he can go out and be exposed to more learning opportunities and social interaction."

O'Sullivan says that boy and dog have formed a close bond. "It's a very different bond to one that you or I would have with a dog," he says. "Aaron has no language, so he communicates with her by touch. And I've never heard Bonnie bark, either. It makes you realise that language isn't the be-all and end-all."

The changes in Aaron's behaviour have been dramatic, and not just because he seldom tries to run away now. "We were at a family christening recently, and the little fella just sat at a table with the dog for an hour and a half. That has never, ever happened before."

Thirty five years after Jim Dennehy thought he'd never walk outside again, dogs such as Bonnie have transformed the lives of people all over Ireland. The day after my visit to the guide-dog centre, I'm on the quays in Dublin at rush hour when I notice a man walking in front of me, a guide dog by his side. The crowds push around them, but the dog never falters. For a moment I watch him skilfully and smoothly guide his owner away from street signs and jostling elbows, across junctions and around potholes. And then they disappear into the crowd.

To find out more about Irish Guide Dogs for the Blind or to sponsor a puppy, go to www.guidedogs.ie or call 1850-506300