the
kennel."
"Oh,
you're just jealous, Lorraine"—Jimmy laughed, apparently knowing exactly
who she was—"because the last time we were here, I got Leah, the most
beautiful golden retriever in the history of the world, and you got the
boxer—Leonard, wasn't it? Remember? That's when they were training boxers—the
great slobberers of the world."
The woman
laughed, taking it well. "Yeah, but he was a great old boy, my Leonard, a
great old boy."
"So,
Brenden, what do you want?" Jimmy asked. "They've got goldens, black
Labs, yellow Labs, a few shepherds, and then this new breed, the Labradoodle.
That's a combination Lab and poodle. I've heard they're really smart, but what
do I know? I'm blind."
Laughter
again rang out around the table. Brenden found himself wondering how they could
all be so cavalier about their disability. Hadn't some of them lost their sight
along the way because of an accident, just like him?
Jimmy asked
again, "So what do you want, pal?"
"I don't
know," Brenden said tentatively. "I guess I'll just take whatever
they give me."
"Well,"
Jimmy said, "you're in Harold Smith's class—Smitty, we call him. That
means you'll get a great dog no matter what it is. Smitty's the best. The only
problem is he likes dogs more than he likes people."
Lorraine
jumped in again. "That's not true, Jimmy. He just likes dogs more than he
likes an old pain-in-the-rear like you." This time the laughter was even
louder.
Brenden
realized that most of these people had been down this road before and were both
extremely excited and comfortable. He couldn't understand it. He was here
largely because his mother had pressured him and because he knew without a
doubt that if he didn't regain his independence, he wouldn't be worth anything
to Lindsey. He understood perfectly that he had to become her equal in all
things or their love would die. All this optimism about dogs was just too much.
Just then, a
sliding glass door at the far end of the room opened, and Brenden heard someone
stride in with confident steps. Enthusiastic applause broke out. Smitty had
arrived.
"Good
evening, ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "Welcome to Guide Dogs.
You have the distinct honor and pleasure of being members of my class."
A smattering
of good-natured booing followed this comment.
"Oh, you
people are just sorry you're not bald and handsome like I am." Smitty
laughed. "That's right, ladies, handsome and bald and getting older."
"Not as
old as me," Jimmy piped in.
"No,
Jimmy, that's true. No one is as old as you."
Again,
laughter.
"All
right, everyone. You know the rules, but if you're new and you've read your
material, you've learned that your dogs will not be presented for the first
three days. You'll be working Juno."
Jimmy
groaned. "That means me too, Smitty?"
"Yes, it
does, Jimmy. Your technique has probably become too sloppy over the years.
You're likely taking too many shortcuts. It's about time we straightened you
out."
Brenden
didn't know exactly what Juno was, but he had heard that it related somehow to
simulating what the dogs did with their instructor.
"It's going
to be a long day tomorrow," Smitty went on, "with a lot of walking.
Breakfast is promptly at seven. The work begins at eight, We'll start with a
general lecture on the work and then go out into the beautiful streets of San
Rafael to begin our training. Take some time and get to know each other. Some
of you already know where your rooms are, but we'll be around to help any of
you who aren't sure. Just let us know whenever you're ready to go to bed."
After more
applause, Brenden noticed that most of the students immediately fell into
excited conversations. They were extremely enthusiastic about meeting the dogs,
while all Brenden wanted to do was go home.
Smitty
watched all this, observing the young man sinking further and further into
himself. He thought about McCarthy's application, how it spoke of his love of
sports and outdoor activities, of his graduation
kennel."
"Oh,
you're just jealous, Lorraine"—Jimmy laughed, apparently knowing exactly
who she was—"because the last time we were here, I got Leah, the most
beautiful golden retriever in the history of the world, and you got the
boxer—Leonard, wasn't it? Remember? That's when they were training boxers—the
great slobberers of the world."
The woman
laughed, taking it well. "Yeah, but he was a great old boy, my Leonard, a
great old boy."
"So,
Brenden, what do you want?" Jimmy asked. "They've got goldens, black
Labs, yellow Labs, a few shepherds, and then this new breed, the Labradoodle.
That's a combination Lab and poodle. I've heard they're really smart, but what
do I know? I'm blind."
Laughter
again rang out around the table. Brenden found himself wondering how they could
all be so cavalier about their disability. Hadn't some of them lost their sight
along the way because of an accident, just like him?
Jimmy asked
again, "So what do you want, pal?"
"I don't
know," Brenden said tentatively. "I guess I'll just take whatever
they give me."
"Well,"
Jimmy said, "you're in Harold Smith's class—Smitty, we call him. That
means you'll get a great dog no matter what it is. Smitty's the best. The only
problem is he likes dogs more than he likes people."
Lorraine
jumped in again. "That's not true, Jimmy. He just likes dogs more than he
likes an old pain-in-the-rear like you." This time the laughter was even
louder.
Brenden
realized that most of these people had been down this road before and were both
extremely excited and comfortable. He couldn't understand it. He was here
largely because his mother had pressured him and because he knew without a
doubt that if he didn't regain his independence, he wouldn't be worth anything
to Lindsey. He understood perfectly that he had to become her equal in all
things or their love would die. All this optimism about dogs was just too much.
Just then, a
sliding glass door at the far end of the room opened, and Brenden heard someone
stride in with confident steps. Enthusiastic applause broke out. Smitty had
arrived.
"Good
evening, ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "Welcome to Guide Dogs.
You have the distinct honor and pleasure of being members of my class."
A smattering
of good-natured booing followed this comment.
"Oh, you
people are just sorry you're not bald and handsome like I am." Smitty
laughed. "That's right, ladies, handsome and bald and getting older."
"Not as
old as me," Jimmy piped in.
"No,
Jimmy, that's true. No one is as old as you."
Again,
laughter.
"All
right, everyone. You know the rules, but if you're new and you've read your
material, you've learned that your dogs will not be presented for the first
three days. You'll be working Juno."
Jimmy
groaned. "That means me too, Smitty?"
"Yes, it
does, Jimmy. Your technique has probably become too sloppy over the years.
You're likely taking too many shortcuts. It's about time we straightened you
out."
Brenden
didn't know exactly what Juno was, but he had heard that it related somehow to
simulating what the dogs did with their instructor.
"It's going
to be a long day tomorrow," Smitty went on, "with a lot of walking.
Breakfast is promptly at seven. The work begins at eight, We'll start with a
general lecture on the work and then go out into the beautiful streets of San
Rafael to begin our training. Take some time and get to know each other. Some
of you already know where your rooms are, but we'll be around to help any of
you who aren't sure. Just let us know whenever you're ready to go to bed."
After more
applause, Brenden noticed that most of the students immediately fell into
excited conversations. They were extremely enthusiastic about meeting the dogs,
while all Brenden wanted to do was go home.
Smitty
watched all this, observing the young man sinking further and further into
himself. He thought about McCarthy's application, how it spoke of his love of
sports and outdoor activities, of his graduation
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