02/08/2026
Go Valour! Such a sweet caring boy. This is one of the puppies my parents trained.
After I retired 19 years ago, I developed severe tinnitus. My GP told me I had a hearing problem but, given my background, I didn’t believe her. A visit to an audiologist confirmed she was right. My hearing has now deteriorated to the point where I’m classed as severely to profoundly deaf.
As my hearing deteriorated, communication became increasingly difficult and I found myself misunderstanding people more and more.
The worst incident happened at a funeral. I was chatting at the wake with a group of people, including the husband of the woman who had died. Everyone had been smiling and laughing, so when he said something I hadn’t heard, I laughed. Then I realised everyone else looked sad. He looked shocked and I knew I’d reacted completely inappropriately. I was mortified.
My hearing loss also caused problems at home. Being alone overnight became one of my biggest fears. When my husband was hospitalised with kidney stones, I was terrified. I stayed awake most of the night, watching TV, trying to read, pacing the floor, and repeatedly answering the front door even though no one was there.
Later, when he spent a week in hospital having a pacemaker fitted, I was so exhausted from lack of sleep that people told me I looked ill. Whenever I did fall asleep, I’d wake in a panic and check the whole house again.
The only friends I saw regularly were my former co-workers from the deaf unit because they understood. When we went out, they made sure they sat so that the light was on their faces, they would happily repeat things if I missed them, and suggested moving somewhere quieter if it got too noisy.
With strangers, and sometimes even family, if I didn’t hear what was said, I’d see them look at each other and tut. Eventually, I would only go out if my husband was with me. Gradually, I started making excuses not to go out until I stopped altogether. I became very isolated and depressed. I wasn’t in a good place.
On the rare occasions I went out and about, I avoided people and didn’t make eye contact. If I saw someone I knew, I’d either cross the road, or say hello and keep walking so they couldn’t start a conversation.
It took a lot of courage to apply for a hearing dog. I didn’t think I deserved one because I was sure there must be people worse off than me. The application process also scared me because I was frightened of talking to people and explaining my situation. I really had to dig deep.
The day I met Valour was phenomenal. I was incredibly nervous, but when he trotted through the door, it was love at first sight. He came straight over, I knelt down and hugged him, and from that moment he fitted in perfectly.
Not long after we got him, I was crying after receiving some very sad news. Out of the blue, he jumped onto my lap, put his paws around my neck and nuzzled into me. At that moment he was truly ours.
The first time I realised the difference Valour had made to me was when Brian and I were in a store recently. We’d had a coffee and Brian was sitting down giving his knees a rest while I went for a wander. All of a sudden, Valour kept nudging me before dropping to the floor. I realised eventually that he was alerting me to the fire alarm. Thankfully it was only a test, but knowing he would warn me was incredibly reassuring.
For me, the cooker timer is one of the most important sounds Valour lets me know about because forgetting I’ve left something on the cooker could have devastating consequences. I often burnt meals because I couldn’t hear the cooker timer. Now, wherever I am in the house, Valour nudges my leg and leads me to it.
The greeting he gives us in the morning is hilarious. He lets us know he’s awake with a little whine, then when I tap the bed, he’s up! We often open our eyes to find his face inches from ours, patiently waiting. He has a fluffy rabbit we call ‘Bun Buns’ that I bought him from a charity shop, and now he drops Bun Buns on my face every morning in bed.
With Valour by my side, I’m regaining the confidence to go out on my own. It’s still early days, but I’m getting there. Recently, in a charity shop, a lady started talking to me about Valour being a hearing dog. Then another joined in. Before I knew it, I was chatting to three strangers at once, something I hadn’t done for years.
Recently we were invited to a wedding and my grandson’s graduation. Before Valour, I know I would have turned those invitations down. Instead, I’m looking forward to them. We’ll be meeting my grandson’s girlfriend’s parents, and instead of feeling apprehensive, I’m genuinely excited.
It’s hard to describe what’s changed since Valour arrived. I was always a chatty person before I lost my hearing, and with Valour by my side, I feel as though I’m becoming my old self again. I couldn’t imagine being without him now.
