- Bogie plays with his tail. Photo provided by Sara Laufer
- Sara and Bogie take on the world. Photo provided by Sara Laufer
- Sara and Bogie. Photo by Daniel Jones
by Regina Wang/Enterprise correspondent
Published: April 14, 2008
At first glance, there is nothing extraordinary about Bogie, a
3-year-old golden retriever that weighs 65 pounds and loves his toys.
But when Bogie strides down the streets with his owner Sara Laufer,
the duo rocks the world. Bogie not only serves as ears for Laufer, who
is deaf, he bridges the chasm between Laufer and a world that often is
ignorant about the disabled. The trust and reliance between the two
are enough to put any individual strength to shame.
“Hearing assistance dog” is Bogie’s full title when he is on duty.
Bogie’s ears perk up to any sudden sounds — a car driving from behind
or keys dropping on the ground. He runs to Laufer and nuzzles her with
diligence when the doorbell rings or a fire alarm goes off. As is
often true with close friends, a nudge and a look communicate more
clearly than words.
Bogie was given up by his original owner and rescued by San Francisco
SPCA, which launched the hearing dog program in 1978. In fact, all
hearing dogs trained by SF/SPCA are rescued from animal shelters.
Two years ago, after her first hearing dog, whom she had for more than
14 years, died, Laufer signed up for the program and met Bogie.
An average day for Bogie and Laufer kicks off when he jumps on her bed
with full force — all 65 pounds worth — and nuzzles her as he hears
her alarm clock vibrate under her pillow. If nuzzling does not work,
he yanks her sheets off the bed.
Throughout the day, he brings anything that seems insignificant but
potentially lifesaving to her attention — a beeping timer, a ringing
phone, a stranger walking by the house.
And he explores life with her. He takes BART with her to her job as a
demographer in the Bay Area. They go to the post office, the grocery
store and Shields Library.
The only places she does not take him are the gym or baseball games,
where noises hurt his sensitive ears.
“He loves to go to pet stores because it’s not his money,” Laufer said
with a smile. “He’s got his toys.”
They even take airplanes together. Laufer said she appreciates Bogie’s
patience when airport security officers examine him.
Because of Laufer’s hearing loss, a normal conversation to her sounds
like a plane flying overhead. She relies on a digital hearing aid and
lip-reading when communicating.
Laufer’s hearing started to decline her when she was 13. Something was
not right, she noticed, when shrill phone rings sounded like a mere
buzz to her.
“It was scary, isolating,” she remembered when her world began to
mute. “Puberty was hard enough by itself.”
Her doctor diagnosed her with Pendred’s syndrome, a genetic disorder
that gradually strips away one’s hearing.
A music admirer, she grew up playing saxophone, flute and clarinet,
and even received a music scholarship after high school.
But everything came to a halt when she completely lost her hearing
during her first year in college. She had to drop out.
She found herself feeling lost as to her future. She was in limbo,
trying to fight the fear of the unknown, while trying to embrace this
new dimension of her reality.
“It was a dark time,” she said.
Several years later, she got her first pair of hearing aids, making it
possible for her to return to college. She attended UC Berkeley and
received her master’s degree in demography.
Meanwhile, she was shocked to discover a powerful stigma against
hearing aids, as many around her associated them with senility and
intellectual inferiority. Companies even turned down her job
applications after seeing her with hearing aids, Laufer said.
And sometimes they aren’t very effective. In airports, she can’t hear
announcements. In grocery stores, if clerks talk to her with their
back facing her, she finds it hard to hear because she can’t
supplement the sound with lip-reading.
“It feels like I’m between two worlds — it can feel frustrating,” she said.
While Laufer deals with the tension of being a deaf person living in a
culture where hearing is the norm, Bogie also lives with tension —
between obeying and guiding his owner.
Unlike guide dogs for the blind, hearing dogs are trained to perform
signal work to alert their owners. They have to be more energetic and
kinesthetic than guide dogs. They learn to obey their owners, but if
there’s a sound — especially from urgent alarms — they immediately
take charge.
Some people are unaware of the differences between a hearing and a
guide dog, Laufer said. She has heard people accuse Bogie of being bad
when they see him alert her.
She added that she wishes people would restrain their urge to play
with Bogie, who wears a vest that has a sign saying, “Please don’t pet
me.”
“He’s a working dog. When people pet him, it will confuse him between
work and play time,” she said.
While Bogie has little problem taking on his responsibilities, it took
Laufer a long time to see being deaf as an asset rather than a
liability.
She realizes her experience gives her a different perspective that
allows her to look at life with more courage and gratitude.
In 1997 when she became a graduate student at the University of North
Carolina, Chapel Hill, she was stunned to discover the university had
given her inaccurate information about its facilities for the
hearing-impaired. As a result, she had difficulty hearing in lectures.
When she withdrew from UNC after one semester, it charged her the
tuition, which was previously covered by her fellowship. UNC even went
a step further by sending her bill to collections.
Laufer, who had no prior experience filing charges, decided that she
needed to speak up for herself. She found a lawyer to file suit
against UNC.
Seven months later, UNC settled with Laufer out of court. The
university also published a public notice admitting its lack of
compliance with disability laws.
The court process, she said, was exhausting.
“I hope that I never again have to resort to a lawsuit to try to
correct or mitigate a serious wrongdoing that never should have
occurred in the first place,” she said.
This experience has helped her to be an advocate for hearing-care
policy. She established a Web site, whatgirl.net, a resource supply
for adults with hearing loss. The Web site gets 82,000 hits a month.
To her, the future is no longer clouded with the fear of unknown. In
addition to getting married in September, she is writing a self-help
book to empower those with hearing loss.
“I appreciate life, relationships, communicating and loving. They are
far more important than working for the sake of work,” she said.
She is grateful for the joys in her life. “Seeing Bogie sniff the
grass with rapture — little things like that.”
Copyright, 2008, The Davis Enterprise. All Rights Reserved.
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