Do Dogs Need Glasses?
Do Dogs Need Glasses?
Just how good is a dog’s visual acuity? First of all, let’s
see how we measure visual acuity. If we
use a typical eye chart (the kind that you see in the office of an optometrist, with a big E on the top row),
the smallest letters that you can read
accurately determine your visual acuity. If you are tested at a distance
of 20 feet and can read the same line of
letters that a person with normal vision can read at 20 feet, then the Snellen measure of your
vision is 20/20 (or 6/6 if you are mea-
suring the distance in meters). If your vision is not that good, then
you will need the letters printed much
larger to read them at that distance. Thus, if the letters that you can just barely read correctly at 20 feet
are large enough that a person with nor-
mal vision can read them at 40 feet, then your vision is 20/40 (or
6/12).
Since we can’t get a dog to read for us, we use another
technique to determine his visual
acuity. In this test we teach a dog to select a pattern made up of equal- sized black and white vertical stripes
instead of a patch that is a uniform gray with
no stripes. If he picks the one with the stripes he gets a treat, but if
he picks the gray he gets nothing. He is
then tested with stripes that become narrower and nar- rower. Eventually the stripes will be so thin
that the dog’s visual acuity will not be
able to determine that they are there. At this point the stripes blur
and smear in the eye, and the card with
the stripes will look the same as a card that is a uniform field of gray with no stripes. When the size of the
stripes just arrives at this point, we
have reached the limits of the dog’s visual acuity. The size of the stripes
that the dog can see can be converted to
the same Snellen acuity measure that we get from an eye chart used to test people.
In actual practice, dogs appear to get a bit frustrated in
the testing situation when the lines get
very thin and near the limits of acuity. Rather than carefully studying the patterns the way that a person
might in order to make out the appar-
ently blurry lines, the dog simply gives up and chooses randomly. It
seems that dogs just don’t rely on their
vision as much as humans, and, after all, even by just guessing, the dog will get a treat at least
half of the time. The best performance to
date on this test is from a dedicated poodle, tested in Hamburg,
Germany. Still his acuity was quite poor
and he was only able to discern patterns with stripes that were nearly six times wider than the minimum
that humans can perceive. Con- verting
this result to the more usual measures, the dog seems to have a visual
acu- ity of only 20/75. This means that
an object that a dog can barely see at 20 feet (6 meters) is actually large enough for a person
with normal vision to see at a dis-
tance of 75 feet (23 meters). If your visual acuity were worse than
20/40, you would fail the standard
vision test given when you applied for a driver’s license in the United States and would be required to wear
corrective lenses. A dog’s vision is
considerably worse than this.
Don’t let these numbers fool you, however. even though the
focus is “soft” and he won’t be able to
make out many details. The overall effect is something like viewing the
world through a fine mesh gauze or a
piece of cellophane that has been smeared with a light coat of petroleum jelly. The overall
outlines of objects are visible, but a lot of
the internal details will be blurred and might even be lost.
Knowing something about the visual acuity of dogs helps to
explain some ca- nine behaviors that
otherwise seem incomprehensible. For example, there were occasional times when I would slowly walk out
of the house when my dogs were in the
yard, only to have them stop and stare at me. As I continued to move
toward them at a slow speed, they would
take a few nervous steps and might even hunch
down in a slightly defensive posture. It seemed quite clear at such
moments that they were not quite sure
who I was. When I spoke to them, they immediately seemed to relax and galloped toward me, with
my flat-coated retriever, Odin, doing
his usual goofy greeting dance. Let’s change the scenario slightly. I
again walk out of the house to find the
dogs in the yard, but now I am wearing the broad-brimmed western style hat that I usually wear
outdoors. At the moment Odin catches sight of
me, his usual response is to dance his way over to say hello, quickly
followed by the other dogs in the yard.
Why do they fail to recognize me in the first instance yet
immediately identify me in the second?
In the first case the dogs had to discriminate who I was based upon smaller, less distinct features, such as
the shape of my eyes, nose, and mouth,
which are blurry to them at best. However, in the second instance there is
a distinctive outline to my shape,
provided by my hat, which is a big enough visual feature to be easily seen. No one else in my
family has chosen the same style of
headwear, so this larger visual feature is quite easily recognized even
given the soft focus of their eyes.
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