I work at the Trinidad and To­ba­go Blind Wel­fare As­so­ci­a­tion (TTB­WA), and I’m blind. So, dis­abil­i­ty aware­ness isn’t just a theme for me. It’s my every­day life. But late­ly, the most pow­er­ful dis­abil­i­ty ad­vo­cate I’ve come across has four legs, a tail, and more at­ti­tude than most peo­ple I know.

His name is Hart. And no, he doesn’t walk with a cane or read Braille. He’s a re­tired po­lice dog, a Bel­gian Ma­li­nois with a nose trained to find drugs, guns, and am­mu­ni­tion across Trinidad and To­ba­go. Now blind, Hart has tak­en on a new mis­sion: help­ing us change the way peo­ple think about blind­ness.

Hart was born in Slo­va­kia near­ly 11 years ago. No one knows how he got his name. Be­cause “Hart” is an old Eng­lish word for a red deer, and con­sid­er­ing he was born in East­ern Eu­rope, it’s a bit of a mys­tery. Nev­er­the­less, it suits him. There’s some­thing wild and proud about him, even now. He came to Trinidad in 2017 to work with the TTPS Ca­nine Unit and was paired with of­fi­cer Sean Bai­ley. The two made a se­ri­ous team. Hart sniffed out il­le­gal con­tra­band in homes, on the streets, and even­tu­al­ly, at the air­port.

At around sev­en years old, Hart be­gan go­ing blind. For a work­ing dog, that’s usu­al­ly the end. But Dr Williams, his eye doc­tor at the Mt Hope Vet­eri­nary Hos­pi­tal, sug­gest­ed he ease in­to re­tire­ment to pro­tect his emo­tion­al well-be­ing. So, Hart kept work­ing at the air­port this time, where the en­vi­ron­ment was con­trolled and safer.

Even­tu­al­ly, it was time to hang up the leash.

Han­dlers usu­al­ly get first pick when dogs re­tire, and of­fi­cer Bai­ley adored Hart. But Hart now need­ed eye drops five times a day, some­thing that is tough to man­age with a full-time po­lice sched­ule. That’s when jour­nal­ist and au­thor Deb­bie Ja­cob stepped in.

Ja­cob has worked close­ly with the Ca­nine Branch, yet some­how had nev­er heard of Hart. When she did, she couldn’t be­lieve he’d slipped past her radar. But once she met him, it was love. Deb­bie said she thought she was adopt­ing a blind Ma­li­nois, but Hart taught her that she was adopt­ing a Ma­li­nois who just hap­pened to be blind. Not on­ly did she adopt him, she in­tro­duced him to a whole new au­di­ence.

To­day, Hart is the first an­i­mal mem­ber of the TTB­WA and our of­fi­cial mas­cot. He al­so helps vet­eri­nary stu­dents learn how to ex­am­ine and treat blind an­i­mals.

But his most un­ex­pect­ed gig? Pod­cast star.

Hart is the voice, yes, voice be­hind A Touch of Hart, an au­dio di­ary that’s equal parts heart and hi­lar­i­ty. He’s voiced by Khafra Rud­der, son of ca­lyp­so leg­end David Rud­der. Deb­by gave Khafra no di­rec­tion, but the first time she heard the voice, she said, “That’s him.”

And she’s right. If Hart could talk, this is ex­act­ly what he’d sound like.

The pod­cast, which start­ed in the blind com­mu­ni­ty, is now spread­ing across dis­abil­i­ty net­works and even schools. On Oc­to­ber 1st, to kick off Blind­ness Aware­ness Month, a three-part Caribbean folk­tale-style episode will be re­leased, teach­ing chil­dren val­ues like em­pa­thy and in­clu­sion.

If you think re­tire­ment has soft­ened Hart, think again. When Deb­by had cataract surgery and left him at the Ca­nine Unit for a few days, they called to say, “We have to keep him on a short leash when walk­ing past the ken­nels. He wants to fight the oth­er dogs.”

That’s Hart. He’s blind, yes. But he’s still a work­ing dog at heart.

He al­so still has his ball, and I mean his ball. Deb­by says if she doesn’t stop him, he’ll chase it all day. Even with glau­co­ma and kid­ney dis­ease, Hart is full of en­er­gy and dri­ve.

But the soft­est part of Hart’s sto­ry? That would be Blu.

Blu is Deb­by’s oth­er dog. A sweet, gen­tle Ger­man Shep­herd born on Christ­mas Day in 2020, she has cog­ni­tive chal­lenges, poor mem­o­ry, and trust is­sues. But she’s deeply kind and has de­vot­ed her­self to Hart.

She un­der­stands he’s blind, so she de­flects balls to­ward him, runs be­side him in the yard, and gath­ers his toys at night so he can sleep with them near­by. Deb­bie said one day, she saw Hart slow­ly us­ing the tip of his nose to map out Blu’s face and head, as if try­ing to “see” her.

That mo­ment res­onat­ed deeply with me. Be­cause as some­one who’s blind, I un­der­stand that kind of touch, the way we learn peo­ple by feel, by en­er­gy, by sound. Hart was do­ing the same, in his own way.

And de­spite Blu’s pa­tience, make no mis­take: Hart is the boss. He barks at her, bul­lies her a bit, de­mands at­ten­tion—and she lets him. Not be­cause she’s weak, but be­cause she’s wise. She knows he needs her.

And maybe that’s the re­al heart of this sto­ry.

Hart’s jour­ney isn’t just about go­ing blind. It’s about adapt­ing. It’s about find­ing new ways to lead, to love, and to mat­ter—even when the world changes around you.

Be­cause Hart? He’s still work­ing. Still teach­ing. Still lead­ing.

Blind­ness didn’t end his mis­sion. It just gave him a new one.

And I think that’s some­thing we can all learn from.

This col­umn is sup­plied in con­junc­tion with the T&T Blind Wel­fare As­so­ci­a­tion

Head­quar­ters: 118 Duke Street, Port-of-Spain, Trinidad

Email: ttb­wa1914@gmail.com

Phone: (868) 624-4675

What­sApp: (868) 395-3086