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.

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.

"He's the best I've ever trained, Brenden. If you use him well, you both will get better and better at the job, and you'll find the freedom I know you're looking for."

"I wish I was as sure as you are, Smitty," Brenden said, giving the trainer a hug. "I wish I was as confident as you are."

The man reached into his pocket and handed Brenden a pair of socks.

"What's this for?" he asked, surprised.

"We always replace items that our dogs destroy," he said, smiling. "But you know what, kid? You'll never have to worry about anything like that anymore. I can feel from his eyes that Nelson has made a decision that you're his master and he loves you. Now, what is it that I always tell you?"

The two men intoned it together. "Trust your dog."

chapter sixteen

The flight home from California was uneventful, except for a little eighty-five-pound thing called a black Lab so nervous that he had to climb up on Brenden's lap as they took off. Eventually, the big guy settled down on the floor under the man's feet, and by the time they landed he was an old pro, not even stirring as the 767 touched down in Denver. Brenden told his mother that he and Charlie would drop her at home; he planned to visit Lindsey as soon as they arrived.

As the plane droned on, Brenden said a silent prayer. He had to admit that he was more than just a little uneasy about his coming reunion with Lindsey. Over the last month, he had often asked God for guidance as it related both to his disability and to his relationship with the girl. He felt like a tightrope walker—a man on a high wire—in balance but always on the edge of falling, secure but not safe in his teetering sense of self-worth.