Brenden snapped, breaking every rule of affection-based training. Brendan dropped the harness and used the leash with three violent pulls on the choking chain, causing the dog to drop to the ground.

Then in a voice full of anger, disgust, remorse, frustration, and sadness at the entire scope and tragedy of his blindness, Brenden roared at the dog, "Nelson, you miserable, useless animal, forward!"

The animal's eyes searched desperately for his trainer, and his whimper said, "I know I'm right. This is what I'm trained to do, what I'm supposed to do. I will not go forward."

Smitty arrived at that moment, grabbing Brenden by the shoulders and spinning him around.

"Give me the leash," he told Brenden, his anger filling the s.p.a.ce between them. "You're done for the day, McCarthy, and maybe for good. You're an ungrateful jerk who's feeling sorry for himself and taking it out on the dog. That is not acceptable."

Arriving back at school, Brenden went to his room, and Smitty took Nelson to the kennels. After putting the dog away, he went to his office and sat down at his desk. The sun had set, and the light was fading.

Had he done the right thing-or had he overreacted and been unprofessional? I couldn't stand to see him break Nelson's spirit, he thought. I was right on the edge. I wanted to deck him.

He pushed his chair back and swung around to look out at the darkening campus. Nelson had been right, of course, in refusing the command. Smitty realized, however, that he had just as much responsibility for Brenden's well-being as he did for the dog's.

What to do now?

Should he go to the director and say he thought this candidate was unfit to take an animal into the field, or should he try and talk to Brenden? There was so much potential there. Watching them together, he saw the possibilities for a tremendous partnership.

The trainer made a decision.

He crossed the courtyard to the dorms, where he checked the dining room and the social areas to see if Brenden was with the other students. Not finding him, he went to the young man's room and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again, and again no one answered.

"Brenden," he said, "it's Harold Smith. Are you in there?"

This time the voice came from the other side of the door. "Leave me alone, Smitty. Go away."

Harold Smith took a deep breath. "What do you drink, McCarthy, when you're not here at school and you're out with your friends?" There was no response. "There's an English-Irish pub down at the end of the street, called The Old Head. I'd very much appreciate it if you would let me buy you a beer or whatever is your drink of choice. I think we could both use one."

After a short beat, Smitty heard the bed creak and Brenden's feet cross to the door. It opened. "Okay," he said, "you're probably right."

Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in a comfortable booth in a corner of the bar with two large steins of beer and a bowl of peanuts.

"Listen, bud," Smitty said, "I overreacted today, but you just can't treat a dog like that."

Brenden put down his beer. "I know that, Smitty," he said. "I've been thinking about it. I guess I'm just not cut out to have an animal. I'm not ready. There're still too many raw nerves, and I guess I just lose it sometimes."

"It's understandable, Brenden," Smitty said. "I can't imagine how difficult it is to adjust to being blind, especially when a guy is as energized as you are. But, Brenden," Smitty went on, leaning over the table, "this dog, this marvelous animal, represents your chance to be active again. Do you know why you have Nelson, why I picked him for you?"

Brenden was curious. "Why?"

"Because he's the best dog I ever trained, and because this is his last chance. He actually has been out in the field twice with two people who couldn't handle him. I matched him inappropriately. He has some quirks, like all aggressive animals do. I mean he likes to bite stuff sometimes, and there's never been food he doesn't want to eat, and he probably plays a little too rough. But, Brenden, he's brilliant and joyous and gutsy, and I have a feeling that's the kind of person you are."

"That's the way I used to be," Brenden said quietly. "I used to be that person."

"Brenden," Smitty implored, "you can be exactly that kind of person again. If you're just willing to hang in and work with your animal, there is nothing you can't do together. I know guys who jog with their dogs. There are people who take their friends swimming. Last year there was a woman who ran the Los Angeles Marathon with her golden retriever. I've trained people who live independently in New York City and others who work their dogs in rural country settings with no sidewalks. Brenden, these animals can be adapted to share life in any way you choose if you can learn to love your dog enough and believe in the bond that can grow to be as strong as any that you'll ever share with another human being."

The waitress brought another beer, and Smitty was still selling.

"Look, Brenden, what's the alternative? A life in the dark, living on the sidelines without ever getting in the game? I don't think that fits your personality, and I don't think you want the people you love to think of you that way. Didn't you tell me about a girl you really care for? What's her name?"

"Lindsey," Brenden said. "Lindsey Reynolds."

"Okay," Smitty said, "Lindsey Reynolds. The more you demonstrate the ability to take your place back in society, the more Lindsey will love you. Life is all about partnerships, Brenden, and in a partnership everyone has to pull his own weight. Nelson will make it possible for you to be equal in any life setting you choose, but it's all up to you."

Brenden took a big pull on his beer and sat back. "You really think I can do it, Smitty? You really think we can become a good team?"

"I do, Brenden," Smitty said, meaning it. "I believe you can become a great team, if you will commit to loving Nelson as much as I know he'll learn to love you. What do you think? Do you think we ought to get him out of jail?"

"Jail?" Brenden asked.

"He's back in the kennel, and he's not a happy black Lab."

Brenden laughed. "Okay, Smitty, let's break ol' Nelson out of prison."

Smitty smiled. It was a start.

The trainer was right-Nelson was not a happy black Lab. He paced up and down the kennel like a tiger. Now and then he flopped down with his head forlornly between his paws, only to jump back up and resume his pacing. What did he do wrong? He knew Brenden was mad at him, and he was sorry for that because he really liked working with him. But Smitty-Smitty didn't take him home. He brought him here; he put down a dish of food and some water-but he didn't take him home.

The big dog raised his chin and howled-a cry so painful, so desperate, so lost that all the other dogs joined in, creating a cacophony of sound.

As the two men approached the kennel, Brenden heard Nelson's mournful voice. He was amazed at the sympathetic emotion welling up inside of him. In the animal's longing, he could feel his own aching for Lindsey, and this resonance between them made him want to reach out and hug the dog.

As they came to the gate, it was Brenden who first spoke to the animal in the dark.

"It's okay, Nelson. It's okay, boy. We're here. We're going to get you out of jail. Just a minute, pal. We'll get this gate open."

Smitty took the keys out of his pocket, and in a second the prison door swung open and Nelson was free. Something happened then, something Smitty would think about for a long time. Something he didn't expect.

Free to make his own choice, Nelson didn't come to the trainer. Instead, the dog ran straight to Brenden and literally tried to leap into his arms.

Smitty didn't understand it, and yet it supported the premise he had always believed: never underestimate the power of a dog's instinct or the love expressed by these remarkable animals. Nelson made a decision only the dog could fathom. Could it be some kind of apology for this afternoon's event, or could it be that he somehow sensed that Brenden needed him even more than the young man knew himself?

Smitty recognized that a corner had been turned. In Nelson's basic, primitive instinct, he chose Brenden as his alpha dog, his leader, his master.

Both men knew that something remarkable had just happened, and Brenden had to admit to himself that he was touched to his very core by the dog's honest expression.

All three looked forward to the next two weeks of work.

chapter fifteen.

Everything was different now. Overnight, the dynamics between Brenden and Nelson took on a new aspect, and trust began to germinate as the central theme of the work. The dog was confident the man liked him, and the man began to feel an exciting sense of pride each time they enjoyed success. Even though their daily routes were getting more complicated, their flow and ability to read each other through the telegraph wire of the harness and leash made achieving their objectives a piece of cake.

When they entered a building, Nelson lined up the young man perfectly to find the door. All Brenden had to do was reach out with his right hand, follow the animal's nose, and-presto!- the door handle or k.n.o.b was always right there.

Coming to a chair, Nelson placed his head right on the seat, making it easy for Brenden to sit, rather gracefully he thought.

And then there were escalators. It was in this part of the work that the feel between them became even more critical.

They were in a crowded shopping mall with escalators going up and down to the various floors. Smitty asked the team to move forward onto the little ramp that acted as a bridge from the ground surface to the moving stairs of the escalator.

As a newly blind person, this kind of surface change caused great trepidation in Brenden's psyche. He couldn't help being afraid, and Smitty saw it right away.

"Trust your dog, Brenden," he said. "Trust Nelson. Now remember, when he steps onto the escalator, drop the harness, use the leash, and feel the railing with your right hand. That's it. Keep one foot behind the other so that you're balanced on the stairs. Now move out smartly and don't be afraid. That's it. That's it. Trust your dog. Good job."

Smitty was right behind them as they all went up the escalator together.

"Okay, Brenden, remember, as we get off, give the dog plenty of freedom with his leash so that he can hop and not jam his feet in the rollers. Keep your right hand on the railing and just walk with him. That's it. Very good! Very good, Brenden."

By the third or fourth try the team was seamless in their efforts, and the young man again told his trainer that it was all just a piece of cake.

It was also during this week that the team was introduced to traffic checks, requiring the help of additional instructors driving vehicles. During these traffic checks, the master had to completely trust his dog, and Brenden was surprised to find that there were a few different kinds of checks. The simplest type was when the team stood at a crossing with the master telling the dog to go forward and the car either coming fast around a blind corner or jumping a light, forcing the animal to stop on a dime.

The second type of check occurred when the student would be halfway across the street when the light changed and cars began to move. The dog was forced either to hurry through the crossing or stop with cars whizzing close to the team.

The third and most complex of the traffic checks was the most difficult to deal with. This occurred when a vehicle pulled out of a driveway or parking garage before the blind person had a chance to hear it. The dogs had to be incredibly alert to handle these encounters, and Brenden was lavish in his praise of Nelson as the black dog led the cla.s.s in accuracy.

At dinner that evening, old Jimmy told him, "You know, Brenden, I've had five dogs, and none of them worked as well as your Nelson. You got the best, boy, the best, and I hope you appreciate it."

Brenden really did appreciate the gift he had been given, and for the moment his life was on a positive upswing. He and Smitty were getting along, and he also had a number of conversations with his mother. He told her that being here wasn't really that bad and that his dog, Nelson, was tremendous. He also talked to Charlie, who told him that he intended to accompany Mora to Brenden's graduation.

The downer-the thing that caused his stomach to tighten up and his heart to skip a beat-was his lack of communication with Lindsey. Oh sure, they talked a few times during the three weeks, but he sensed a subtle but significant change in their relationship. It wasn't that she was cold or unfriendly or even disinterested in his progress. What was missing was-he struggled to get a handle on it-intimacy.

Their conversations just didn't sound like those of a young couple in love, and he found himself counting the days until he could be with her, willing them to go faster.

He cared a great deal about Nelson, but his real love was Lindsey, and she dominated the center of his thoughts.

But during the day Brenden was able to dismiss his concerns about Lindsey and focus on becoming a team with Nelson. When you're about to take a trip to San Francisco, ride the BART system, and practice as a team in the financial district, which included figuring out Embarcadero Square, learning how to get through revolving doors, and finding the front desk in crowded hotel lobbies, your mind better be in tune with your animal.

Revolving doors were challenging, Brenden learned, because you really had to have good technique to handle them. The dog was taught to walk up to the door, stopping with his nose just outside the spinning frame.

Smitty told Brenden to give the command, "Forward and around," and when he did, he was to drop the harness and let Nelson jump around to his right side, keeping his own body between the door and the dog.

The first time they tried it Brenden took a pretty good shot on the side of the head from the moving door, but he was able to shake it off, and by the third attempt they had mastered the technique.

Traveling by bus required the dogs to either lay in the aisle in the back of the vehicle, facing forward so that no one would step on them, or scramble to get under a seat, keeping their paws and heads out of the aisle. None of the animals liked this part of the job, but all of them had to learn to accept it; and Brenden was surprised at how well Nelson adapted to whatever circ.u.mstance challenged him.

In a phone call to his mother, he tried to explain his present feelings. "Mom, the bottom line is that I don't really know how I feel about myself, about what I'm going to do, who I'm going to be, or how I'm going to handle this new life. But I am amazed at what goes on here at the guide dog school. I mean, these dogs are incredible, and they're all about service. There is something so pure in the way they do their jobs. They care first and foremost about us. Even now, I'm a brand-new guy in this dog, Nelson's, life, and yet I can feel that in every minute of his work, he's trying to take care of me. When I first got here, I resented all this stuff, but now, well, now it actually feels pretty good."

"That's wonderful," Mora said. "I'm anxious to meet your Nelson when Charlie and I come out for graduation. Have you heard from Lindsey about whether she'll be able to join us? The offer still goes, you know. I'm happy to buy her a ticket."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Mora heard her son sigh. "Oh, she told me that she's just swamped with work right now. I-I understand. I'll see her when I get home."

Mora could hear the sadness in her boy's voice but chose not to press him for more information.

During the fourth week of training, the cla.s.s added airport travel to the resume of things the teams learned. The trainers told everyone in advance that going through security would be extremely complicated, and there was no simple way to do it. The recommended method was to walk up to the security check, put your stuff on the conveyer belt, tell your dog to sit, and then have the security person take your hand and help you through the checkpoint. Then, when you reach the Other side, call your dog forward and have the animal hand checked.

"It takes a lot of patience," Smitty told Brenden. "These people are just not educated about how to handle working dogs. You're going to find that in the real world you and your animal will face a lot of experiences where you'll say to yourself, 'How can people be so dumb and insensitive when it comes to understanding that you and your dog are a professional team and need to be allowed to do your job correctly?'"

Brenden actually had a comical experience the day they were in the airport. He sat at a gate with the big dog at his feet, waiting for the rest of the cla.s.s to complete the exercise of getting through security. A mother with her little boy approached him and asked if her son could pat the handsome black Lab. Brenden made the mistake of saying it would be fine. But then he was amazed when he heard the kid scream as Nelson decided to share the little boy's ice-cream cone. The child was upset, the mother was upset, Nelson was upset, and Brenden, well, Brenden couldn't help but find the whole incident pretty funny. It did remind him, however, that letting people pat Nelson when he was working was simply not a good idea.

On the night before he and Nelson were to leave the guide school and go out into the world, Brenden couldn't sleep. At some point in his tossing and turning he got out of bed, put on his bathrobe and slippers, and sat at his desk, drumming his hands in thought. Could life really hold meaning for me? Will the independence I have gained really work? Is the success Nelson and I have achieved just a mirage, something artificial that the world will shatter when we get home? Will Lindsey ever see me as a whole person, or will she break my heart? And if that happens, then what? All of these thoughts sent him back into the dark despair that was always at the edge of his consciousness. Brenden tried to put those thoughts out of his mind, reaching down to pat the big dog, who was also awake and had moved over from his place at the side of the bed to lie with his head resting on the man's foot.

The newly minted master caressed the big animal's soft ears. Velvet, he thought. They feel like velvet in such contrast to the coa.r.s.eness of the fur. And yet in the contrast of the touch, the dual nature of the animal was revealed, from hard work and discipline to the ultimate in softness, kindness, and love.

Brenden dropped to the floor, running his face along the dog's neck, taking in his smell. It was a dog's smell, but Brenden had come to love it, and he could separate the smell of Nelson from all the other animals in the school. Nelson's smell was-well, Nelson, and Brenden appreciated it beyond all comprehension as he took in a big whiff.

The dog breathed softly and slowly, completely contented as the man's hands roamed over him. Brenden had already learned to read his friend's breathing. He knew when Nelson had to relieve himself. He understood immediately when the animal felt tension, as the guide dog's breathing would become shallow and quick. He loved it when Nelson would quiver with excitement and enthusiasm, vibrating from the tip of his nose to the bottom of his paws. And those paws: slightly webbed and just as good for swimming or running. He kissed the dog's nose and got a lick in return.

"We're going to make it together, boy," he said to the dog. "You're going to help me make it."

As he climbed back into bed, the animal's tail said yes in response.

Graduation day dawned clear and bright with promise. Everyone dressed for the occasion, most especially Jimmy, who decided to attend the ceremonies in full tails and high hat that he rented from a store downtown.

"Why the formal duds?" Smitty asked Jimmy, laughing.

"Because I'm too old to ever get married again," the man said, patting his golden retriever, "and this beautiful girl is going to be my most important partner for the rest of my life, so I figured a fella should dress for the occasion."

Smitty wasn't laughing anymore, and his hug told Jimmy he understood.

Brenden found himself particularly moved by some of the comments from the speech given by the president of the guide dog school.

"Graduates," he told them, "it's our great hope that the eyes of your guide dog will open worlds of possibility to each and every one of you. In your time with us, I know you've come to love your animals, and you've begun to understand that the interdependence that you share with these remarkable dogs will create the independence we know all of you very much want.

"Your dogs are not only your working partners; they will also serve you as loving companions. I think you've probably figured out that with them you can enjoy almost limitless activity, and there's no reason why you can't pursue any career goals you have in mind. I think you'll also find that people in general will very much want to get to know you because you have a beautiful working animal as your best friend.

"You have a lot to look forward to, and as the trainers say, 'You haven't even touched the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the potential that you and your dog will share as a working team.' The trainers call it seasoning, and when graduates come back to see us, they often talk about how much the work changes over time. One of these folks recently told me that he can't remember the last time he gave his dog a formal command. He said they have conversations, and sometimes he feels that the animal is talking back."

Everybody laughed, but each student and trainer knew exactly what the speaker meant.

Guide work creates a connection between man and dog unlike any other in the world. The intimacy can only be compared to a marriage that stands the true test of time and grows in love and communication.

Brenden reached down and stroked the head of his special new friend lying on the floor next to him.

"Nelson," he said quietly, "when I came here, I didn't know if I really wanted you, and I certainly didn't believe that I'd learn to love you."

The big dog's tail thumped the floor, and Brenden smiled as he removed his hand to stop the wagging.

When the graduates were called up individually with their dogs to accept their diplomas, Brenden was surprised to find tears in his eyes. This time, however, he understood that they were tears of joy and relief that he had succeeded in surviving the month-long program at the school. Now he would be taking his dog and going into the field, hoping to begin a new life.

He was further touched by Harold Smith's emotion as he said good-bye to the old trainer. He sensed that along with his own tears there might be just a few in Smitty's eyes as he hugged Nelson, no longer trying to hide his feelings for the big black dog.