NIHZEE and THE LONG ISLAND RAILROAD
Becoming a Seeing Eye Dog 


This little story is true. I wrote it years ago, and while I could edit it maybe to make it read more smoothly, I want to send it to you this way, in the voice I used when I wrote it.   Nihiz was 1 year old when I met her in 1973.  Her owner didn't want her, and I gladly took her into my life.  I've had 2 dogs since that time, but of all of them, she was certainly the most regal, the most noble, and only she could speak directly into my mind.

I was in my twenties, and didn’t always have a running car, but I did have a love for Fire Island, and I had a dog.  A dog I loved more than anything else in the world.  She was a perfect, beautiful Giant Schnauzer.  Ninety pounds of dog, regal, noble and handsome,  she drew stares of admiration wherever we went.  I was always explaining that she wasn’t a Schnauzer who got huge, but an entirely different breed, so named because of some bad-joke German dog-naming stupidity.  Fire Island was already my favorite place on Earth, still is, but there was only the LIRR and the only dogs they allowed were seeing eye dogs.  Did I mention that I believe GOD gave us Fire Island so that dogs and their humans could run free on a beach, and share something primal which is tragically missing from city life?

It’s an indescribable joy to any dog lover, certainly me, to be with his pets on the Fire Island beach at early morning, or at sunset, letting the surf caress one’s feet, and feeling alone, and totally free, just the two of you.  Those times to me were priceless, and, of course, illegal.  Certainly the risk was worth any penalty.

Which all brings me to the times I committed a crime to get me and my dog to the beach.  It was one of those inspirations, grown out of desperation, that comes with seeing a broom handle in a corner, and a can of white and red paint.  Dark glasses finished the outfit, we were ready for a trial flight.  Launching ourselves on our career of crime, we tried out a subway to see how she’d do with the train noise.  We took the Seventh Avenue line to 34th street, from Sheridan Square and back.  We were a comic pair now that I look back on it.  Nervous a bit, but she did fine, and I was constantly hissing, in stage whispers, "Heel!  Heel !  Nihzee, Heel!"

NihIz was a quiet dog, and very well behaved, and she always would stand at heel when I told her to.  It wasn’t hard to have her appear like a seeing eye dog, even without the brace unsighted persons usually use.  She always stood at my side anyway.  She’d have it no other way, she was a shepherd dog, and after all, I was her job.  All her life, her job, according to her, was looking out for me.

Saturday morning we made our move.  I practiced bumping into things and not being distracted by people looking at the odd couple we made, Nihzee practiced "heel" and we made our way from the subway to the Long Island train with absolutely no trouble at all.

I knew we were attracting attention, but I felt sure that no one would challenge us.  I was right.  Once we got off the train at Sayville, my vision miraculously returned!   It was a regular thing, those train rides, and the toughest part was for me, when I saw a cute guy, to pretend to be unaware of him.

Think about it a moment, a dog, experiencing the New York City subway for the first time. The turnstiles, the terrifying noises, thundering trains, squealing loud brakes, the people, and of course, the smells.  Arcs of electricity, oil fumes, and movement on a strange conveyance.  Doors opening and closing, and me - practicing blindness. What a pair!   She was one amazing dog.  I should also mention we went every where together.

We even took a seaplane to The Pines, back when you could afford it.  Those days there was no dry genteel landing dock, you had to rough it, and wade to the plane in the shallow muck of the bay.  Dogs too.  Especially ninety pound ones, got wet, and after boarding the plane with some assists from the pilot and me, well you can guess what happened next.  Right - she shook off the water, dousing the passengers.  There were shrieks, but you don’t fly dressed in your best Gucci’s at least we didn’t.  That was one fun scene.  She was the greatest good sport, that girl. I swear she had a sense of humor, more than any dog I ever knew.

Funny, I still feel her right there, next to me, I was walking down the boardwalk late last night, heading home from a catering gig, and realized that for the first time I was without a dog on this walk.  I stood still long enough to look at the stars, and heard Nihzee’s voice saying, "I’m here. So is Lulu. We both are, we’re together.  You brought us to this place, and we’ll always be here with you".  Damn, that made me happy.

note: Lulu was also a Giant Schnauzer, who followed Nihzee as my main squeeze a few months after old age took Nihzee. She was 17 and a half years old.  Lulu passed away at age nine on the spring of 1999.  The dumb vet who was attending her had no idea she was ill until it was too late.  ms