Blind man perseveres - unguided

Two months after his guide dog was killed by a dump truck in north Spokane, Rod Christensen’s world is infinitely more cluttered.

A scratch on his right arm attests to the hazards posed by overgrown bushes, utility poles and low-hanging branches – obstacles that his dog, Justice, previously navigated with ease. Even the long white cane that he uses to find his way can unexpectedly bounce back and jab him if he isn’t careful.

“Most of the time, the world was a pretty clean place,” he said. “But you get this cane and there’s junk all over. The whole world is full of posts and fire hydrants and you name it.”

After years of relying on Justice to be his eyes, Christensen is adjusting to life without “Jussy” by his side. The 60-year-old, who has been blind since birth, struggles with survivor’s guilt, vowing never to put another dog in jeopardy.

He’s adapting to navigating with only a cane, a process that’s much slower and requires more concentration.

When walking around Spokane, he freezes whenever he hears a truck – the last sound he heard before Justice, a 9-year-old yellow Labrador retriever, was killed early on July 11.

And although he’s resumed weekly Wednesday trips with his guide-dog-owning friends, he still misses Justice, the faithful companion who, Christensen believes, never got any justice for herself.

“I go because they’re my friends,” he said “They’re all nice dogs, all the guide dogs, but they’re not Justice. I’ve sort of turned off that part of my brain.”

Christensen said Justice’s harness was caught by the truck and torn from his hands as he crossed Rosewood Avenue along Nevada Street.

But police didn’t ticket the 53-year-old driver of the Bark Boys Landscape Supplies truck because witnesses said Justice was running in the street while Christensen walked on the sidewalk.

Under state law, drivers of vehicles approaching a person with a white cane or guide dog “shall take all necessary precautions to avoid such a pedestrian.”

Christensen said that at the time he was too shocked to tell police his side of the story.

“A guide dog is very well trained,” said Cheryl Martin, director of the Lilac Blind Foundation, a nonprofit that assists vision-impaired people. “That (running in the street) just doesn’t occur.”

The insult to Justice’s reputation consumed Christensen’s thoughts soon after the accident.

“Those things haunt me greatly,” he said in early August. “It’s hard for me to move beyond that.”

But with encouragement from friends, many of whom attended a memorial service for Justice, Christensen is becoming more active again.

Many of those friends gathered Friday morning for a weekly social event at the Lilac Blind Foundation. Christensen played a Braille version of Uno with several vision-impaired friends, including Laurie Kennedy, the woman from whom he rents a small apartment.

“When he first started with a cane, it was pretty rough,” Kennedy said. “He’s so used to going fast and walking along, and now he’s got to take his time and really watch out for himself because it’s all up to him.”

Christensen could even jog with Justice, but he’s had to regain his confidence using a cane after 20 years of using guide dogs, he said.

He avoids busy streets, choosing those with wide sidewalks.

“This really isn’t a town engineered for pedestrians,” he said. “But you do the best you can.”

Demonstrating the obstacles he encounters, Christensen probed his way east on West Boone Avenue near the Spokane Arena on Friday. He extended his cane in front of him with his left hand, sweeping it across the sidewalk to detect cracks and obstacles.

Cars whizzed by to his right, some passing just a foot away. He stopped as a large truck rattled past.

“I didn’t know how close it was, but I didn’t want to stand there and find out,” he said. “It’s just too clear in my memory what trucks can do.”

Christensen said he memorizes every manhole cover and object along routes he frequents.

“They’re cataloged away,” he said. “I’ll never forget this block. If I was away for a year, I could come back, and it would be here.”

Walking back along Boone, he recoiled as an overhanging bush slapped his face.

“We never had to stop for this thing,” he said. “Maybe it’s grown a little.”

Friends such as Kennedy urge Christensen to get another canine.

“I told him that having a dog would work,” Kennedy said. “He’s a great dog owner because he puts so much love and attention into his animals.” Christensen disagrees. “The stress would be less, but there would be that risk to the dog,” he said. “I’ll never go through that again.”