Authors: Tom Sullivan,Betty White
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 space 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.
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 knob 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 class 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 circumstance 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 class 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 class 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 coarseness 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.