Thunder Dog Read Online Free PDF Page A

to properly use the harness and leash, and how to both correct and praise a guide dog. As a class, we also participated in lectures where we learned techniques for basic dog training and obedience, along with how to keep our dogs healthy and happy.
    Three days later, I got my dog. There was an excited buzz in the air on Wednesday, also known as Dog Day. The trainers had been carefully evaluating each of us for personality (quiet or energetic? patient or hotheaded?), gait (fast or slow? small or large stride?), and physical capacity (strong or weak? young or aged?). Trainers had also studied our home environments (busy, big city or small, rural town?) and our lifestyles (frequent traveler or homebody?). Last, they had taken a close look at our day-to-day surroundings (high-rise building, crowded classrooms and hallways, or peaceful home office?). After careful consideration of every facet of both the human’s and the dog’s lives, Guide Dogs matched each of us up with the dog that seemed the best fit. The wise trainers knew I needed a calm, collected dog with the patience to put up with a teenager.
    On Dog Day, we sat through a morning lecture about the dogs, ate a quick lunch in the dining room, then went to our rooms to wait. I was so nervous I couldn’t sit still enough to listen to a talking book in order to pass the time. I sat and fidgeted, getting up to pace back and forth when I could no longer stand it. My roommate felt the same way. Finally, I was called into instructor Bruce Benzler’s office.
    “Mike, sit quietly,” he said. “Your dog is Squire. Squire is a dark red golden retriever, about sixty-four pounds. I want you to be patient. Don’t say anything. I’m going to let the dog in, and we’ll see how he reacts to you.”
    Mr. Benzler got up and walked to the door. He opened it, and Squire walked in the room. He came straight over and started sniffing me all over. I was excited and my hands itched to pet him, but I obeyed and sat still. Squire inspected me for about thirty seconds then sat down next to me and waited. “It looks like you found a friend,” said Mr. Benzler. I gave Squire a hug. My heart was pounding.
    “You can take Squire back to your room now,” said Mr. Benzler. “Use his leash, and ask him to heel. Then take some time to get to know each other.”
    Squire and I headed back to my room. I felt like I was walking on air with Squire by my side. When the door closed behind us, I sat down and talked to Squire for the next couple of hours. I’d known plenty of dogs, but I’d never met a dog before that was so mature and well trained. I felt an immediate bond with Squire. He liked me and seemed interested in me. We just seemed to fit.
    Squire and I developed a partnership, and I learned how to read Squire’s body language through the handle of the harness; I could almost tell what he was going to do before he did it. I think he learned to read me too. He was much more than just a pet. Squire was my best friend, and we became a team as he guided me safely through the halls of Palmdale High School for the next four years. He was a quick study. When faced with a gaggle of girls in a crowded campus hallway, Squire learned to stick his cold, wet nose under a miniskirt or two. When the girls would shriek and jump out of the way, my brother, Ellery, swore that Squire actually grinned. I suspect I almost received a few slaps and I am sure I was the subject of many angry looks, thanks to Squire.
    Squire and our dachshund, Pee Wee, got along famously and wore tracks in the carpet chasing each other up and down the hallways of our house. The two dogs developed a game where Pee Wee raced down the hallway, with Squire in hot pursuit. When they got to the living room, Pee Wee bunched up his long, narrow body like a spring and jumped up on the couch. Squire would run up and grab him off the couch, flip his little sausage body over on the ground, and gnaw on his stomach, play-growling all the