When Scout or Scouty, as we affectionately call him, was fifteen, he was diagnosed with uveitis and tested positive for low exposure to leptospirosis. At the time of the diagnosis, the veterinarian determined that Scout was completely blind in his right eye, but still had full vision in the left.

Learning Too Late How Aggressive Uveitis Can Be

What was so disturbing was that Scout had never shown any signs of blindness or discomfort in that eye. There was no squinting, no cloudiness, no indication that anything was wrong. Looking at it, the eye appeared perfectly normal.

Scout spent a week at the veterinary clinic being treated for the leptospirosis. When he came home, we closely monitored the “good” eye. At that point, I had no idea that total blindness was inevitable or how aggressive uveitis can be. When Scouty scratched the blind eye, and it became infected, the veterinarian recommended enucleation. It was the most practical solution, but I struggled with the decision. Even though the eye was already blind, I wanted to keep that eye. It was pure vanity on my part.

Instead, I opted to use an SPL (subpalpebral lavage) to treat the eye. This system is essentially a catheter that delivers medication directly to the eye without touching it. It was a time-intensive commitment that involved different medications that had to be administered every four hours. The eye was ultimately saved, but a few months later, the “good” eye experienced a flare-up. More vision was lost, leaving Scouty with only a pinprick of sight. Even then, he managed remarkably well.

Choosing Between Goodbye and the Unknown

Eventually, that eye developed a painful, cancerous infection, and removal became the only option. I was faced with a tough decision. Euthanasia or caring for a blind horse?

Would Scouty adapt to being completely blind? I felt confident that he would, based on his behavior with severely limited vision.

When I went to pick Scouty up from the vet after surgery, I wasn’t sure what to expect.  What if he didn’t adapt? What if I had made the wrong decision? Was I truly acting in his best interest, or was I just being selfish?

A friend came with me to help bring him home. I led Scouty out of the barn. He moved cautiously, stopping often. When we reached the trailer, I let him stand at the edge and sniff the interior. He paused for a moment. Then I gave the “step” command and, amazingly, he stepped right in! It seemed like a promising step in the right direction.

Once we got him home, I settled him into his stall, where he quickly became pretty agitated. He paced and seemed panicked, and it was hard to watch. I started questioning myself again. Had I made the right choice?

Finding His Way and a New Friend

At the time, we had been searching for a miniature horse or pony to serve as a companion, but hadn’t found the right fit. A friend kindly loaned us a miniature donkey. It helped, but it wasn’t ideal. She was older, set in her ways, and not thrilled about the arrangement. The donkey stood quietly in the neighboring stall and wouldn’t answer Scouty when he called.

After a few hours, Scouty began to calm down. The first time I led him out to his pen, he did surprisingly well. In those first few days of total blindness, he would halt often while being led. Sometimes he seemed reluctant to move at all. With patience and plenty of treats, we kept going. Before long, it became routine, and he adapted far more quickly than I ever expected.

We started in a smaller paddock. I led him around the perimeter, tapping the fence and talking to him so he could map his surroundings. I tapped the stock tank, “showing” him where it was so he could learn its location.

Then came the arrival of a new miniature friend. Demon had previously been kept in a small enclosure with goats and was overjoyed to be with another horse. After one defensive kick from Demon, the two settled in and soon became inseparable.

As the days turned into weeks, Scouty continued his amazing progress in adapting to total blindness. Watching him move around the pen, it was hard to believe he was blind. He walked with confidence. He knew his space. And he had his new buddy.

Not the End But a New Chapter 

Were there mishaps? Of course. He occasionally bumped his nose on the top rail of the fence. But Scouty was smart. He understood his limitations. He didn’t bolt or charge around. He was careful and deliberate. He quickly learned the layout of his pen and the location of the stock tank, navigating his world with remarkable ease.

Losing his sight didn’t take away Scouty’s enjoyment in life. He does almost everything he did before. He grazes, he plays with Demon, he walks around his pasture, he drinks water. He rolls. He genuinely seems to have a good quality of life. He seems perfectly content.

What this journey taught me is that a blind horse can adapt and still enjoy life. Blindness was not the end of Scouty’s story; it was simply a new chapter.