Things were looking up, if only for the moment. Beanie was unable to shake his cold, and a visit to the vet brought terrible news. Beanie had tested positive for FIV. My friend now had to find a catless home for Beanie. I liked cats, but had never considered sharing my home with one. "That's a lot of responsibility!" I can still hear myself saying it. She was undeterred and I soon found myself with a very sick sight impaired housemate.
Beanie eventually recovered and casually got on with doing what cats do, enriching our lives in ways we never anticipated or even thought possible. Hopes that his eyesight would recover were dashed, though. The milky covering on his eyes was scar tissue from a serious infection and would never heal.
Despite his visual impairment Beanie had no difficulty navigating the house. Collisions would occasionally occur at speed, and normally involved something that wasn't where it was just a moment ago. I realized that he loved to play, and for some time this deluded me into thinking that his eyesight was much better than it was. You see, he struck at ribbon and string with such stunning speed and precision. It wasn't until I dragged a bit of twine across the floor of the room in total darkness that I understood what was really happening.
Beanie's impaired vision did limit his aerobatics, though. It was clear that he could quite confidently leap to the back of a chair, but that was really the extent of what he felt comfortable with. The silver lining in the cloud of Beanie's sight impairment was evident on every occasion I allowed him into the back yard. You see, my fence was no match for a cat with normal vision. For Beanie, though, it was an insurmountable barrier. With moderate supervision, I was able to allow him to roam freely about the back yard and truly enjoy the sights, sounds, and feel of the outdoors.