Homer convinced us, his first night in our home, that he could see at least a little bit.
We adopted him many years ago, and had left him in the living room just a few minutes while we went to get him some food and water. When we returned, he was on top of the piano. The only way he could have gotten up there was to jump. He had just entered our home for the first time. How would he know how high the back of the piano was, or that there was a safe, flat surface up there? He must have at least limited shadow vision.
When he was subsequently examined by a veterinary ophthalmologist, however, she told us that his retinas were not even connected to the nerves leading to his brain. It was impossible for him to have any vision whatsoever.
It was the first of Homer's seeming miracles. In recognition of his spellbinding ways, we named him Homer, after the blind epic poet.
Homer was a loving friend and presence to the other special needs dogs and cats who live as a family in our home.
Here he is with Danny, who had the calicivirus, survived pneumonia shortly after birth, and has some breathing difficulties:
Homer was the sweetest cat. Soon after he arrived in our home, he began waiting until we had gone to bed, then he would climb into bed, climb up on my chest, and begin kneading and purring.
Later he started jumping into my lap during the day, putting his front paws against my chest, and kneaded and purred while he rubbed his face against mine.
Now Homer has passed, we miss him dearly, and our home is not the same.
Please follow this link to see some of the other special needs dogs and cats in our home.