Samuel Clemens

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• Vital Stats

  • Name: Samuel Clemens
  • Gender: Male
  • Played by: PenGryphon2007
  • Nicknames: Sam
  • Race: Human
  • Age: 23
  • Size: Average
  • Height: 5'9"
  • Weight: 170lbs
  • Complexion: Fair with Freckles
  • Hair: Auburn
  • Eyes: Blind at 18 (brown)
  • Handedness: Right
  • Scars: None
  • Relationship Status: Single, Interested
  • Personality: Sarcastic, Snarky, Withdrawn
  • Likes: Walking, Talking, Joking, Having fun, Raspberry flavored things
  • Dislikes: Curbs; Idiots

• Description

  Sam:
  His auburn hair is cut short, with bangs that cover his forehead. He wears dark shades/sunglasses most of the time. If his glasses come off, he has brown, unseeing eyes.
  
  He wears typical jeans and sneakers, and whatever jacket he happens to find. His favorite color is blue, but sometimes he mismatches his socks and his clothing. He really just sort of throws things on.
  
  Dean, the infamous guide-dog/police-dog is a 3-year-old lab/shepherd mix:
  

• Biography

  Sam was your average young man; witty, fun-loving, and very active, until an accident left him blind at 18. Unable to see objects or light, he has had to fight to adjust to his lack of sight--which often reveals itself in his scathing sarcasm.
  
  Somehow he managed to make it to college, AND get a degree in English. (Try reading Dante's "Inferno" in Braille!)
  
  After graduating, he became an online article writer to pay his bills. Unfortunately his girlfriend of three years dumped him, telling him he should get a guide dog, but Samuel resists the idea. He's not sure he can look after a dog any better than he can look after himself.

• The Accident

  Samuel Clemens loved cars and motorcycles, and everything in between. However that all changed when he was in an accident that took his vision.
  
  Street racing isn't legal for a reason. It's dangerous. For Sam, he knows exactly how dangerous, and he was lucky to survive a crash that flipped his vehicle three times, totaling it completely. The windscreen shattered upon the initial contact of car-to-street sign, sending shards of glass into his eyes and thereby blinding him.
  
  When he woke in the hospital two days later, he found himself unable to see, although the glass shards had been removed. He was lucky that he didn't end up losing his eyes entirely. His eyes have recovered some, looking normal, though his sight has not returned.
  
  The doctors aren't hopeful that he'll regain his sight without a miracle.

• Side Stories

  • The Revolving Door of Doom

    It hadn't been that dumb of an idea; in his previous life, Sam wouldn't have given it another thought. I mean, come on, it was an automatic door. He'd used them dozens, no, hundreds of times. So why should this time be any different? Oh wait, that's right, the last time he'd been through an automatic door, he'd been able to see it. This time was different. Wearing dark shades over his eyes, he might look like he was sporting a fashion statement, but the long white cane in his hand testified to the real reason for the sunglasses.
    
    He waited, listening to the faint whirr of the doors as they spun. It wasn't just an automatic door, it was an automatic revolving door. And he'd been dumb enough to take a bet that he could pass through it. It couldn't be that hard. People did it all the time. And he'd passed through this particular set half a dozen times. Back when he could see, that is. Now was different; he was blind.
    
    Hesitantly he scooted the tip of his cane forward until he felt it connect with the door, which swept it harmlessly aside. Alright, so it spun clockwise, that couldn't be too hard. The tricky part would be judging when the opening on the other side arrived. But if he kept his cane tip to the outside of the revolving door, surely he could figure out when that opportunity arrived. If he missed it... He tried to steady himself. The worst that could happen was he'd get stuck. Right. A blind man stuck in an automatic revolving door. He'd make headlines. Maybe that was why his friend had dared him to do this. He was going to kill his friend.
    
    "Well?" Jacob asked, goading him on really. "Are you going to do it or are you chickening out?"
    
    "Give me a minute; I can't time it like you can," Sam shot back, then caught himself. "Sorry."
    
    He heard cloth rustle as his friend more than likely shrugged. "No matter. We can always go in through the regular door."
    
    "No. I want to do this."
    
    His friend snorted. "It was a joke, Sam. You don't have to do it. I mean you could get stuck."
    
    Sam shook his head and then judging the timing to be right, stepped quickly forward. He didn't hit anything--that was good. The whirring overhead of the doors distracted him and he stumbled a little as he tried not to trip over his own feet and the cane in his way. For a moment he wasn't thinking, just focused on moving forward. He remembered to move his cane's tip to the left side of the revolving door and he waited for the opening. One, two, three, four, five, six, he counted the paces, trying to determine just how large the revolving door was before he'd come to the opening. He felt his cane tip swerve suddenly into an opening. He took a quick two steps, hit something, stumbled, and then felt the cane get stuck. The door stopped. A beep sounded. And then a wailing sound and everything stopped except for him.
    
    He ran into the glass divider that was ahead of him, and realized when he tried to extract his cane that it was stuck in the opening. He turned to try to feel his way out, discovered the gap in the opening, and then managed to get a few of his fingers out. He could hear people running towards the door, a couple of voices asking what had happened, some snickering. He felt heat rise into his face--he was stuck. Damn it.
    
    Laughter echoed from the other side of the glass, and Sam angled his face to determine it was his friend and raised a hand to give him the finger. Yeah, his friend deserved more than that, but for now, Sam was simply stuck.
    
    "Sir? Are you alright?" A deep masculine voice, probably the manager of the store, called to him.
    
    "I'm-I'm fine." Sam replied with embarrassment. "I think I'm stuck though."
    
    "Yeah, your, uh, cane got stuck." Some more snickering and Sam sighed, resigning himself to the worst case scenario.
    
    "Can you shut off the automatic doors and push them open?" he asked.
    
    The manager seemed surprised, or otherwise was looking for said switch judging by the moment of silence. "Sorry, doesn't seem to be anything like that on this end."
    
    Sam turned to ask the same of his friend on the other side of the door. But apparently his friend had taken the manual door to get inside because Jacob piped up next. "Nope, nothing on the other side either."
    
    "You've gotta be kidding me. I'm gonna kill you for this," Sam muttered at Jacob.
    
    Jacob just laughed. "You'll have to break out of there first."
    
    There were a few sounds, some creaking noises, Sam felt the door shift and then it was moving. Yes! Was he out? Almost--he reached his hand out to feel for the divider in front of him reversing towards him, but the door moved only a few inches, enough to loosen the cane from its stuck position before whirring forward again. Sam heard a cheer followed by a gasp and knew what was going to happen before it did. The revolving doors moved forward, he had to take two steps to keep from getting smacked by the divider behind him--and then the doors stopped. The whirring stopped. Everything stopped.
    
    Sam cursed and used his cane to feel around his little space--not nearly enough room. He scowled and leaned against the door before getting an idea. Someone was already hollering it to him through the glass.
    
    "Give it a push, we'll push from here!"
    
    It couldn't hurt. "Sure." He clutched his cane, and then leaned heavily against the door, putting all his weight against it and then-some. He felt the door budge. Yes! Success! It moved, turned, one step, two, almost three--he lost hold of his cane suddenly and it fell. He tried to catch it, missed, and then suddenly the door came to a jarring halt followed by a strange pop. What? No! Not again!
    
    He fumbled for the cane, found it, and then tried to pick it up. It moved, but not like it was supposed to. It was a retractable cane, and he felt the cord stretch, pull, and then grow taut. Oh no... He felt his heart race. Not this! His cane was broken? No, just stuck.
    
    "It's stuck!" came the voice from outside. They could see it better than he could.
    
    "It's broken--look it's all twisted up and mangled--"
    
    "-No, idiot, it's a retractable cane, see? It still moves."
    
    "Yeah but the door doesn't. So now what genius?"
    
    There was a lull as no doubt the crowd outside the glass doors grew. Sam was just grateful he couldn't see it. Not that it mattered.
    
    "Dude, Sam, you should see the people staring at you!" Jacob's voice fizzled through the glass.
    
    Oh if only Sam had had the capability send a glare at his friend! He settled for just pretending a glare. Yep. He was going to be in the paper. He just knew it.
    
    "We'll have to call for the fire-department at this rate," muttered the manager on the other side of the glass. "We can't break it down, it's beyond our skill set. You gonna be okay in there...?"
    
    "Sam." Jacob supplied to the manager.
    
    "Sam? You gonna be okay for a bit?"
    
    Sam sighed and rested his hands against the glass. "I'll be fine." He was plotting revenge against his friend. But what could a blind man do against a friend who could see? He wasn't sure, but at this rate he had ample time.
    
    "Go call the fire department," he heard the manager tell someone, then yelled back through the glass, "we'll be here the whole time." There was a pause then probably because the situation was so awkward came the inevitable question: "Are you really blind?"
    
    Sam felt the heat rise to his face again. "Yes."
    
    "Why the hell didn't you come through the regular door?"
    
    Sam paused and then jabbed his finger at the approximate location where his friend was more than likely standing. "Jacob dared me."
    
    "And you went through with it?"
    
    Sam shrugged. Somehow there was no real reason to try and back up his reasoning. It was dumb; stupid. And now he was paying for it. Damn. He slid down the glass divider, to sit with his knees bent--the space wasn't big enough to sit entirely sprawled out.
    
    "You okay? Getting hot?"
    
    Sam shook his head. "I'm fine." He was starting to doubt that. Was it his imagination or was it getting stuffier in the glass confines? He knew he had space, air, the thing wasn't air-tight for crying out loud, but it was starting to feel that way. His heart was racing, his thoughts began to turn horrifyingly desperate. What if he never got out? What if he was stuck in here for all of time? What if he passed out and suffocated? What if-?
    
    He leaned forward to massage his temples. He'd be fine. Fine. Some day he'd look back on all this and laugh. Of course his friend would be six feet underground by then. "I'm gonna get you for this, Jacob," he muttered.
    
    What was taking the fire department so long? He wished they'd hurry up. And then his concentration was broken by Jacob's voice.
    
    "Dude, you sure you're okay? You're lookin' pale. If it helps, you're going to be in the newspaper. Oh look, wait, sorry, you can't. I think a news van just pulled up. Yep, channel 7, dude, you're gonna be famous."
    
    I'm gonna be toast, was what Sam was thinking in response. "Is there really a news van?" he muttered. He hoped his friend was lying.
    
    "Yep. No, wait, another one...channel 13. Yep, you're definitely going to make the news. I'll bet this is the biggest excitement they've had all year."
    
    "Hell, it's only February, can't they have gone somewhere else?"
    
    "What, and miss a blind man stuck in a revolving door? Pffft, no way. Only an idiot would do something that dumb."
    
    "You talked me into it!" Sam yelled, his embarrassment and dire thoughts turning to anger.
    
    "No, if you recall I dared you. Not the same thing. You can always step away from a dare." Never mind that in his hey-day Sam never had. "And if you recall, I did try to talk you out of it at the last minute."
    
    "But not before you dared me," muttered Sam. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Was he hotter than normal or just stressed? He wasn't sure. He was getting thirsty though. And he could feel the heat of the sun magnified through the glass. Whose brilliant idea was it to create revolving death traps? Automatic ones no less that couldn't be reversed.
    
    He wiped his arm over his forehead. "Look, Jacob, I'm planning your demise every minute I'm stuck here. You wanna know what I'm thinking about right now?"
    
    "Uh, not really. Besides, like you could pull a fast one on me?" The goading tone struck Sam hard, and he glowered.
    
    "I'm getting you back for this, Jacob. Just know that." Yeah. Maybe if he could force Jacob to live in blackness for a while, his friend my understand what he was going through. Might--but not likely. Probably he should just end this friendship here and now. It had gone past playful dares and into something more dangerous. Sam plucked at the hem of his jeans. They felt tattered. Great. He hadn't even contemplated getting new clothes and now after this--he'd be lucky to step foot outside his door for weeks.
    
    In the distance sirens wailed, and Sam felt his blood curdle. Wait, fire department right? Surely they were here to help. But that didn't help. He tried to take deep breaths, but that really didn't help in the grand scheme of things. He just wanted out of this tiny prison. And it felt like it was getting tinier every minute. He was sure he was starting to hyperventilate by now. His breath was getting ragged and his heart was pumping like he was in a marathon. A blind man running--there was a joke. And he felt the sweat trickling down his face. It was definitely getting hotter in here.
    
    "Dude, relax, the fire department is here."
    
    "I know." Sam cut him off. "I can hear them." The wailing siren pulled up practically just outside the revolving doors and then the siren cut off. Sam wondered if the lights were flashing, but already he heard people muttering, orders being given, and then someone else joining the others on both ends of the glass.
    
    "What happened?" A new voice, gruff but amused, asked.
    
    "Sam got stuck in the automatic revolving door," supplied Jacob helpfully. "Well, he was good until his cane--it disassembles--got stuck, and then lodged itself there. We can't push or pull it open."
    
    There was some humming, some hawing, and then a few muffled orders through the glass, not meant for Sam but for the fire fighter on the other side.
    
    "Sir, are you still with us?" The fire fighter called through the glass.
    
    Sam stirred, lifting his head and passing his hand over his sweaty face. "Yeah." Under his breath he muttered, "Unfortunately."
    
    "We're going to have to disassemble the door to get you out. So if you hear any strange, loud sounds, that'll be the door. Okay? We'll get you out pronto."
    
    Sam nodded. "Sounds good." Yeah, the sooner the better. He was starting to feel ill; maybe it was the heat; maybe the embarrassment; maybe it was just nerves. "Calm down, Sam," he told himself, "you're gonna be out of here in a few minutes..."
    
    The sound of a power tool made him near about leap out of his skin, and at any rate there were a few laughs that came in through the door.
    
    "Sorry," Jacob's voice filtered through the glass again, "should have warned you about that. It's gonna get loud here."
    
    Sam muttered. "Could have told me that first." And then he was surrounded by a cacophony of noise. Power tools were loud enough. When surrounded by glass on all sides, the noise was downright horrendous--worse than nails on a chalkboard.
    
    The minutes dragged out slowly. The power tool whirred on and whirred off. There was a scraping noise, a rough jarring sensation that made Sam's stomach leap into his throat, and then another voice.
    
    "Sir, we're gonna have to ask you to stand up, can you do it? We're trying to remove the divider--door."
    
    Sam hesitated and then carefully with one hand in front of him and the other on the floor, stood. No problem, he wavered on his feet. Sweat coated his face. The heat was stifling. Another whir of power tools, some more grinding noises that set his teeth on edge and almost made him whimper, and then a breath of cool, fresh air. What?
    
    "Sir?" The voice was no longer muffled. The glass divider door was gone.
    
    Sam stumbled back a step, forgetting his cane in the meanwhile, and fell back against something--no, someone. A hand caught him, steadied him, and he adjusted to try to walk out. He was shaking some, trembling. Strange, he wasn't really scared now. Just...
    
    "Here, sit." The fire fighter turned him around and Sam gingerly sat on a seat. Must have been wheeled from the manager's office."Can you get him a drink? How do you feel?"
    
    A cloth, cool and dry, was put in his hands and he wiped his face. "Hot, sticky, sweaty, faint..." he leaned forward a bit, trying to hold off the wave of nausea. "How long was I in there for?"
    
    "About fifteen minutes, near as we can tell. Oh good, here." Sam felt his arm being lifted and a styrofoam cup pressed into his hand. He took it and gulped greedily. Water. Cold, wet, refreshing. Just what he needed.
    
    "Where's Jacob?"
    
    "Right here buddy." Jacob was standing to his left.
    
    Sam lifted his hand up, searching for him. Felt Jacob grab his arm and then didn't hesitate an iota. He smashed his fist into Jacob's face. "That's for getting me into this situation." Jacob reeled back with a yell, no doubt clutching his face; Sam felt his hand tingle. "I'll take another cup of water, please."
    
    That evening, Sam didn't bother listening to the news. He didn't have to. Everyone who knew him called him to ask why he'd been dumb enough to step into a revolving door.
    
    "I am never, ever going to do that again," he muttered and shuddered. If he never heard another automatic door ever again, he would be only too happy.

  • What a Sight (from Dean's Perspective)

    It was the light sound of fabric rustling in the bedroom that woke me from sound dreams of chasing squirrels. With eyes still shut, I listened for the sounds of my master's footsteps. It always took him some time to get ready for the day, but I didn't mind. We always went out somewhere and he was very good about taking me out when I needed to go.
    
    At last the door creaked opened. "Dean?"
    
    I sprang to my feet, tail wagging and padded for my master. I couldn't talk to him, but I could show him my love. I brushed against his legs, and nudged his hand with my nose, giving it a lick with my quick tongue, before he reached down to pet me. Unlike my previous masters, this one didn't see; he didn't know where I was unless I made a noise or touched him to alert him to my whereabouts. If I were any less well-trained I might have taken advantage of his lack of sight, but this was my purpose in life: to look after him.
    
    "Alright, Dean, let's get you outside, eh?"
    
    I whined and bolted for the door, pawing at it anxiously. Let me out, let me out, let me out, I scratched. My master laughed and opened the door. "Get busy, Dean."
    
    I came back a few minutes later, prancing in proudly and found my food bowl had been replenished. Oh I just knew today was going to be a great day! I scarfed down my breakfast, keeping one ear fixed on my master's comings and goings. If I was espcially lucky something might hit the floor--something I could eat. I crunched happily until I licked my bowl clean and then looked up at my master. He poured kibble from a box into his own bowl and added some liquid and began to crunch away like I did.
    
    Something hit the floor. I sprang upon it at once and discovered it to be a loop of cereal. I scarfed it down before I was asked to give it up, then waited expectantly for more. There was no more but that didn't dampen my mood any. My master cleaned his bowl and then stuck it away out of sight. I returned to my bowl to double check that nothing had been added in my absence. Nothing had been. Oh well.
    
    "Let's head out, Dean, I've got research to do." I didn't understand everything my master said, but I knew enough--like "out" meaning to go outside. I barked and watched him flinch. "Quiet, Dean!" I whined and wagged my tail harder as my master found the closet and pulled my harness out. "Heel, Dean."
    
    I came up to his left, sitting obediently beside him. I knew this drill well, it had been drilled into me since puppyhood. He fitted the straps around my chest and belly and I tried not to wiggle too much in excitement. We were going out! I loved going out!
    
    He grabbed the stick hanging by the door and with a flick of his wrist, opened up his cane. He grabbed his keys and then we were outside! I wanted so badly to bolt out, but feeling my master's hand on the harness calmed me down. I was working! It was a great feeling and I stopped to look and smell the air. Birds flitted down but I paid them no heed. I was looking for dangers that my master might run into. Nothing popped out to me and so I surged forward when I heard him say Forward.
    
    He gave me various commands and I led him the way he asked, taking care to avoid potholes, curbs, and all manner of ill-mannered humans who tried to dodge around me. Fortunately most of them knew me by now to not distract me with words or food, but there was still the occasional human who would screech wildly and point and try to ask to pet me.
    
    I didn't mind pettings--I loved them! Attention! Who doesn't like attention?! But working to get my master where he wanted to go was more important, and furthermore, I was the only one who could do it. At last he told me to go left and I turned, to stop. We were entering a construction zone that hadn't been here yesterday.
    
    "Forward, Dean."
    
    The construction workers were absent today, their loud obnoxious machinery that hurt my ears was not on today. I took a careful step forward, then another. So far so good. I continued forward as my master wanted, but before long we had a problem. We were coming up to a pit, where the ground suddenly dropped out from under us. I stopped and tried to look for a way around the obstacle, but there was nowhere to go. It stretched as far as the building on both sides.
    
    "Dean? Forward?" I felt my master hesitate. I knew he was trying to reason out why I wouldn't do what he said--but if I let him move forward, he would fall! I couldn't let that happen! I spotted a path near the second body so I turned right and led him carefully that way.
    
    My master was silent, either confused or worried or getting lost, or perhaps he was just concentrating on my pull of the harness, but he went where I guided him. Then, success! We were at the path. I started forward, happily, before realizing the path was beginning to narrow. Quickly. The cane made an appearance but I ignored it. My goal was to find a path where my master didn't have to worry about running into anything or falling. The latter was looking harder.
    
    I had to stop again and sat for a moment. My tail wagged as I calculated the chances of us crossing the narrowest part of the path. It was narrow for about ten feet before widening out again, but those ten feet would be tough for a cat to cross.
    
    "Forward, Dean."
    
    In my harness I couldn't pull ahead of my master to guide him the right way and give him enough room to walk beside me. I didn't move. I was usually obedient, particularly on these sorts of walks, but my master wasn't paying attention. I felt him step forward anyway and I turned my head to snap at him. It wasn't something I ever did--but I didn't want him to go forward!
    
    "Forward, Dean!" He said more forcefully. I whined and then backed up a step. I could hear my master letting out a breath of frustration. He was frustrated? I was more so! This path was impossible! I would have to backtrack to find an alternate route...and there was no way my master would have the patience for that.
    
    Suddenly I felt the harness go slack and I watched as my master stepped past me, swinging with his cane. I whined and then followed behind him. Maybe...maybe this would work? He muttered under his breath, but they weren't commands I recognized. We were almost halfway across when suddenly the ground began to crumble. With a yell, my master was suddenly gone in a pile of dirt, moss, and rock.
    
    I peered down over the side of the hole to see where he was. I heard a cough, a grunt and then my name. I whined and looked for a way down to my master but I didn't see one. I paced anxiously on the ground wondering how to help him. But it was too deep! The ground was too steep to let me get back out again. I whined but that wasn't helping.
    
    I barked. Once. My master responded with something I didn't understand. I barked again. And then again. Maybe I could bring help? I could do that! I barked at my master to tell him I'd be back, and then ran to the end of the construction site, trailing my lead and harness, before looking for help. I barked to get peoples' attention. But most avoided me, yelled, or hurried past. I tried again, but with the same reaction.
    
    I gave up and looked for someone with the smell of metal and plastic. I could track police officers in my sleep, having grown up originally trained to hunt down criminals. Now I was hunting down an officer because my blind master was stuck in a big ditch.
    
    At last I came to the place of plastic and metal and I stood in front of the doors, barking. They opened and closed everytime I walked past and while I was used to passing through them without a thought, now I barked at them. It quickly got me the attention I wanted to get. A policeman came towards me and I barked and hurried down the sidewalk to pause and look over my shoulder to see if he was following. He hadn't. I went back to the doors, pacing up and down them again, and barking.
    
    Another officer approached and tried to shoo me away. He made loud sounds at me. Another one came and turned off the opening and closing doors. I leaped into the building before the doors could shut. I barked and ran forward--before suddenly being jerked to a painful halt. I looked back and saw the end of my lead caught between the closed doors.
    
    Okay, this wasn't working. Now what? A few policemen were looking at me. One was pointing. Another was talking. Yet more were ignoring this whole thing, or were flashing lights at me. I didn't have time for this! I sat abruptly and howled my frustration to the rooftop.
    
    That did the trick! I pawed at the ground as a female officer approached me. I sniffed her quickly and then ran to scratch at the door. Couldn't they see I needed them to follow me? Why didn't they understand? I knew another way to get their attention, but I had to be sure they weren't going to follow willingly.
    
    There were some more noises but they seemed to have all reached the same conclusion. I was a crazy, mad dog. Never mind the harness that showed I was belonging to a blind person who wasn't with me! I paced up and down and then the female officer returned to open the doors for me once again. I jumped up, breaking years of training, to grab her radio off her waist and then sprinted down the sidewalk.
    
    "Hey!" she yelled after me. But it did the trick! I had help! And she was following me with another two cops. My master would be pleased. I led them back the way I had come, finding the construction site easily and then making my way to the crumbled pathway that had taken out my master. I whined and pawed at the ground, dropping the radio at last to bark.
    
    "Dean?! Dean!" My master's call was overjoyed. Had he thought I had abandoned him? I was his protector! I would never do that! I looked back at the officers to see their faces pale and they looked at each other. The woman scooped up her radio and talked into it before more noises happened between them and my master.
    
    I waited anxiously, trying to figure out what they were doing. I pawed again at the treacherous slope to no avail and the male cop grabbed my lead, keeping me from falling. I whined still and continued pawing at the ground. Why weren't they doing anything? I was going to dig a hole to nowhere at this rate!
    
    And then finally I heard sirens. I pricked my ears up and turned to look as a large truck pulled in, lights flashing. I cringed against the noise but almost abruptly the sirens were cut off. A bunch of men in heavy jackets got off the truck and began to arrange a long ladder which they sent down the embankment.
    
    I watched as several of them climbed down. And then whined anxiously as they took forever to do anything. I strained against the lead until the cop that had me took hold of the harness. I quieted immediately at feeling the familiar weight of a hand there. I still knew it wasn't my master, that he was still down the hole somewhere, but it steadied me somewhat.
    
    And then finally I heard them coming up the ladder. I heard the tap-tap-tap of the cane as it rattled up the rungs of the ladder. And then one of the heavy-coated men was appearing at the top. He turned to help the next man off--and I barked ecstatically. It was my master! He was alive and unharmed! The cop chuckled at my antics, my whole butt was wagging with my enthusiasm.
    
    At last my master shuffled over to me. The cop let go of my harness and I all but tackled my master in excitement. I sniffed him from toe to neck and all over, wherever I could reach to make sure he was okay. He started to laugh and yelled commands at me.
    
    "Sit!" he demanded, and finally I came back down to all fours at his left side, where his hand found my harness.
    
    The cop came over and they made some more noises together and I waited patiently, tail wagging happily. At last Sam said the next command, "Follow." Obediently I trailed behind the policeman who led us back out of the construction site, down the sidewalk for a ways and then all the way to our destination.
    
    "Thank you," said my master gratefully. They talked for a bit as I looked and listened--but everything was good again. And then at last the cop left and I was aware of my master kneeling down to pet me. "Good boy, Dean. I'm sorry I thought I knew better. I should have listened."
    
    I licked his face, my way of saying: Good and don't make that mistake again. My master laughed, stood up, and then I led him into the building. Yep, today was going to be a good day! It's not every day a guide dog gets his master out of trouble. Then again, it's not every day a guide dog's master gets into trouble.Side Stories