Mobile, Alabama. Morningtime. I was meeting someone important.
I pulled into the parking lot of Toomey’s Beads & Bulk Mardi Gras Supply on Macrae Avenue. Which is the kind of store you will not find in any city but Mobile.
Toomey’s is a 70,000 square-foot warehouse that represents one of the largest Mardi Gras supply inventories in the nation. Which is only fitting because Mobile is the official birthplace of American Mardi Gras.
Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
Mobile, Alabama’s Mardi Gras bash is the oldest official Carnival celebration in the United States, started in 1703, shortly after the birth of Dick Clark.
But I wasn’t at Toomey’s to buy supplies for Fat Tuesday. I was here to meet Oscar.
At 11:30 a.m. Oscar arrived. The SUV pulled in. Oscar was accompanied by his handler, Andi.
Andi stepped out of her vehicle and opened the back door. Oscar was on a leash. His tail wagged. His entire backside was gyrating.
The easygoing bluetick hound came stepping out of the backseat. All legs.
He was your quintessential bluetick. White,
with salt-and-pepper ticking. Velvet black ears long enough to qualify as safety hazards. A nose the size of a regulation tennis ball.
A collar around his neck was labeled, BLIND DOG.
“Oscar can’t see,” said his handler. “He has no eyes.”
Oscar’s face is beautiful. Classic hound. Except there are no twinkling brown eyes looking at you. They were surgically removed because of congenital glaucoma.
This is why he walks with a unique gait. He lifts his front paws carefully. Gingerly. Every move he makes is with extreme care. He uses his nose to guide himself.
I could see him taking in his surroundings, using only his sense of smell. Muzzle aimed upward in the air. Testing each scent in the wind.
“His nose is how he sees,” said Jenn Greene, his mother and rescuer. “He can see everything with his…