Community responds to help beloved seeing-eye dog with cataracts

It only takes a few minutes visiting with Michael Nelson to see how deep his affection runs for his yellow lab Molly.

She has the run of his apartment, and every imaginable dog toy. Her favorites are toilet tissue rolls. Nelson goes out of his way to make sure she gets time to romp with other dogs, and he makes certain she gets at least an hour of play every day.

Yet Molly is more than just a companion. She is a working dog, Nelson's eyes for lack of a better description. She is a guide dog — some would call her a seeing-eye dog — trained to help keep the 51-year-old safe as he maneuvers through the city in total darkness.

Sadly, Molly has slowed down, too, an inevitable byproduct that comes with age. She has been with Nelson for more than 10 years. Molly has also developed cataracts in her eyes, a medical fact of none-too-subtle irony.

Yet it's not the complete tragedy it seems. For in dealing with it, Michael Nelson has found reason for hope.

Without warning

Nelson hasn't always been blind. He grew up in Louisa, Va., and moved here in the '70s to attend Piedmont Bible College, then Winston-Salem State University, with the goal of working with learning-disabled kids.

While in school in 1976, he started working at the Central YMCA. It was a job he came to love, and he stayed until 1991.

"It was a great place to work," he said. "Nice people, good friends. Friendly place."

Part of that was due to Nelson himself. He is naturally gregarious and outgoing. He loves meeting and talking to new people. Within minutes of making his acquaintance, before they're even aware of it, strangers have made a new friend.

Nelson lost his sight suddenly on a cold day in December 1998, a terrifying experience for anyone.

"It happened without any warning," he said. "I just woke up and I was blind."

After an exhaustive series of tests and, countless trips to specialists, doctors figured out that Nelson suffered from polyarteritis nodosa (PAN), a rare auto-immune disease that weakens blood vessels and arteries. Sufferers run increased risk of stroke and heart attack as the disease tends to attack organs.

It was a devastating blow, one that could easily throw a person into a lasting funk as they readjust to the terror of living without sight. Nelson, though, is a devoted Christian who stands on his faith. He put his trust in God, and determinedly went about the business of reorienting his life.

"If not for my faith, I wouldn't have been able to accomplish any of the things I have," he said.

He had to learn how to get around with a cane and reacquaint himself with the most basic of things. Once he had that mastered, Nelson learned that he could get a guide dog — a godsend that allows some blind folks to regain independence and freedom of movement.

"Most people don't realize this, but you have to be able to travel independently without a dog before you can get one," Nelson said. "People say, 'It's so amazing that your dog knows how to get to the library or the park.'

"But it's not like that. Molly has no idea where I want to go. I have to know how to get there. She's here to guide me around obstacles."

Working dog

Nelson had two guide dogs before Molly, a golden retriever named Freddy and a yellow lab named Maggie.

Freddy developed intense allergies to something in this area and eventually moved to Arizona. Maggie never really took to the work. And make no mistake, it is work: A guide dog must be constantly vigilant when it's in the harness and cannot be distracted even for a second.

Nelson got Molly and the two others from The Seeing Eye organization, the oldest existing guide-dog school in the world, based in Morristown, N.J. To get a guide dog, he had to relocate to New Jersey for a monthlong course.

"It's for the people, not the dogs," Nelson said. "There were students who left without a dog. You have to learn how to work with them."

There are certain rules with guide dogs, too. Their owners are told not to let the animals interact with people or other dogs so that they may stay vigilant. A guide dog is a working dog, not a house pet.

After Freddy and after Maggie, Nelson was paired with Molly. Their bond was instant, and it was tight. And it became apparent quickly that theirs would be more than a typical relationship.

"I shouldn't say this, but we kind of break all the rules," Nelson said. "Molly is so good with people, so friendly."

Yet she also is hyper-aware of her job. When her harness is on and she's leading Nelson, Molly is all business. He says she has saved him from harm countless times by alerting him to obstacles in his path or a car passing too close to the curb.

"She is such a perfectionist," Nelson said, "very conscientious about her work. I don't know what I would have done without her."

A rallying point

A few months ago, while visiting with friends at Green Street United Methodist Church, someone mentioned to Nelson that Molly appeared to have cataracts.

He was thunderstruck.

Nelson loves Molly, and it was painful because he didn't want her to suffer. He knows how tough life can be without sight. He is also aware of the hard economic reality of treating an animal for such a condition. Surgery can run into the thousands.

Office visits easily tally $100 or $150. Not sure where to turn — his income is limited to disability — he slowly started discussing Molly's condition with friends.

It didn't take long for the news to spread. Words became actions. His friends at the YMCA — he's still a fixture, attending cycle spin classes — opened a bank fund at Wells Fargo.

Proceeds from an elementary school art sale went into the account. Friends from churches and those he has met at Hanes Park dug deep. Word even got to California, where a man Nelson has never met decided to send a large check at the behest of a friend here who had told him about Michael and Molly.

Thousands of dollars were donated, plenty to cover Molly's vet bills for the immediate future.

"It was an incredible thing to see and be part of," said Erin Johnson, a YMCA employee and a friend who helped organize things. "Everybody knows Michael and Molly and loves them. Their bond is obvious."

The financial end of things squared away, Molly was thoroughly examined by a veterinarian. She indeed has cataracts, but they're not bad enough yet to require surgery. She will need it eventually, but for now her vets are managing her condition and keeping a close eye on her.

It's reassuring for Nelson to know, and he's ever so grateful. The outpouring of love and support has helped renew the faith of a faithful man.

"It makes you feel really good to know there are people out there with that kind of heart," Nelson said. "There is so much bad out there, so much ignorance about being visually impaired."

Such as the shopkeepers and convenience store merchants who continue to chastise Nelson when he brings Molly into their establishments. Don't bring that dirty dog in here, they say.

Hearing that sort of thing with some frequency eroded some of Nelson's faith in strangers.

"Having people come to my assistance and Molly's assistance has restored some of the confidence I'd lost in people. I'm truly thankful."