The streets shed their light, like strange movies. Corky and I walked around New York like actors in a technicolor pageant, sweetly in tandem. Walk, walk fast, sing. Our lives were going to be a kind of logorhythmic performance. How do you become a guide dog team? You dance and sing the darkness and light, make it do your bidding.
Back at the guide dog school they would say in class, “follow your dog” which, in the early days of training meant that you shouldn’t lag back or drag your feet. Follow your dog meant trust her. Go with her. Let her make decisions. On the first day of class at Guiding Eyes I remember a student saying to me, “Man that felt like I was walking on an airplane wing.” He meant that it felt both light and dangerous. It would take him more than a few ways to turn over to his dog’s steadfast intelligence and follow her freely. Once you follow a dog you really are in a dance. Fred Astaire said: “Dancing is a sweat job.” He also said: “I just put my feet in the air and move them around.” Dancing is hard work until the music gets inside you.
On that same first day Corky and I descended under the streets into the subway. I stopped with the “Mairzy Doats” and just talked to gently to her. A little baritonal whispering. “My dear Girl, we are in the new darkness, and it’s going to be okay. What a good good Girl you are!” We were floating then.
Planet of the Blind 