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</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--></head><body lang=EN-US link=blue vlink=purple><div class=WordSection1><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Thanks so much for all your careful reading. I have had this manuscript languishing on my computer for years. Your patience and attention to detail has helped me to get it ready for submission somewhere to a publisher or agent. I think that without your help it might have remained on my computer hard drive or in my dropbox.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Here is the next chapter.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal align=center style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:center;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'>We Are Two Against The World<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-align:justify;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='text-align:justify;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'>It was amazing to me, how small a space my Tammy could occupy. I removed her harness after she walked me on the plane and she quickly folded herself into the foot space and under the seat ahead of me. She liked to be tucked up under furniture to avoid being stepped on by passing foot traffic. I still hadn’t learned yet, that as a good handler, I should always keep a corner of my mind on my dog. A woman passenger stopped to pet Tammy as she boarded. During the long flight back to California, I dropped off to sleep. My bored pup decided to go find her new friend. She quietly got up and strolled down the aisle. The stewardess woke me exclaiming, “Miss, your dog is all the way in the back of the plane!” Not knowing what else to do, I yelled, “Tammy, come!” Down the center aisle of the plane, at full gallop came my truant guide, startling all the other passengers. No one had noticed her first stealthy passage. Learning to pay attention was a lesson that was to stand me in good stead in later years when I had two small daughters to keep out of mischief. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'>When we arrived in L.A., I was surprised when my stepfather failed to meet me at the gate. </span>Dad and his best hunting buddy Burt had been so busy staring at a girl wearing a crocheted mini-dress, they failed to notice Tammy and me moving quickly past in the crowd. <span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'>If I had been alone, I would have been badly frightened. However, the presence of my dog made me confident I could handle this dilemma. I asked Tammy to find a chair. She moved confidently over and placed her lovely head on the seat of one and I sat down to think. She crawled under my seat and curled up to wait for the next event. My parents had moved away from the town where I had graduated from high school and my father had taken a new job. I had never even seen the house where my family was now living. I was about to go looking for a phone, when my stepfather’s friend came over to me. When they had missed seeing me disembark, they started looking around for a dog. They had not noticed Tammy quietly resting under my chair. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'>I only had a few weeks to spend at home before leaving for college. The neighborhood was unfamiliar, but each day Tammy and I set out to walk a few blocks around the residential area. A child living on our street seemed to take a fiendish delight in arranging obstacles for us. He placed tricycles, toy trucks and anything he could think of on the sidewalk in front of his house. Tammy carefully worked around the obstructions moving off onto the grass or even into the street hugging the gutter to find a way past the obstacles. I didn’t know the people, so was loathe to make a complaint. One day, he set so many things in our path, that Tammy was picking her way slowly and carefully. In the middle of the maize, he had placed a sprinkler. As Tammy came up to it, he turned on the water. She got a spray directly in her face. This incident resulted in a long struggle to overcome a dislike of sprinklers on her part. For months, she tried to race through them or swerve out into the street to avoid being sprayed. I had to use a lot of firm patience to get her confidence back. Being a good dog handler called on all my experience training and keeping pet dogs. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'>Tammy was an eager learner. She seemed to be able to attach a word to any object or action after three or four repetitions of that word in conjunction with what I wanted. She loved to take care of me and win my praise. Tammy made it clear that I didn’t own a Labrador guide dog, she owned a blind girl. Even out of harness, her loving amber eyes were always fastened on me. If I moved from room to room, she came padding along to lie where she could watch me. If she thought I was about to bark a shin on a coffee table or trip on a garden hose, she raced to catch my hand in her mouth and lead me around the danger. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'>My stepfather’s desire to have me protected was amply met to his chagrin. He never expected that one of the first people she would decide I needed protection from would be him. He banged open my bedroom door without knocking. He was annoyed that I hadn’t gone into the kitchen and cleaned up after my family finished breakfast. I was busy sorting through my jumbled possessions, trying to pack for college. Tammy was resting on her rug on a tie-down chain attached to the foot of my bed. Dad got only a few loud words out before a large black dog leapt toward him towing the bed after her into the middle of the floor. She stood there with her fur on end letting out a menacing growl. He hastily backed out saying he would tell me later and closed the door quietly. Although she was very gentle with children and seemed to love everyone, she always took vigorous exception to anyone she felt threatened me. This hasn’t been the case with my subsequent dogs but was a part of Tammy’s sense of total responsibility for my safety.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'>I walked with Tammy around the area, sometimes accompanied by my two year-old baby sister Christina. Tammy instinctively slowed her pace to accommodate a toddler’s smaller steps. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'>My brother Rob and I pooled some money and took Chris shopping for some badly needed clothes. Tammy lay quietly at my feet as we waited in line to pay for our purchases. My brother Rob and I were lifting our sister up and setting her down swinging her between us by her small hands. Another shopper remarked to her friend in disgust. “Would you look at that? They are hardly more than babies themselves and there they are with a baby.” Rob and I couldn’t help laughing. As the two eldest children, we were used to taking care of the younger ones. We had grown up sharing chores around the house and helping our parents make ends meet by contributing what we could to the family coffers. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'>Rob was starting his senior year of high school. When he was four, he fell striking his head on a picket fence. For nearly a year he lost the ability to speak. I was beginning to lose vision rapidly at about the same time. Rob became accustomed to guiding me and I became adept at guessing what he wanted to say. We had a special bond, an affinity for understanding each other’s needs and feelings. I was about to embark on my college career. Leaving my close knit family behind. Besides seventeen year-old Rob, Tammy could count sixteen year-old Ruben, eleven year old Donald and baby sister Christina in her new family.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'>Leaving the protective haven of my family was going to be a big test of my abilities. As the eldest, I was my mother’s extra set of hands. Rob had always been my best friend because his gentle tender spirit was most in tune with mine. Ruben enjoyed being the complete pest to his big sister, but would defend me heatedly if anyone else tried to annoy me. Donny saw me as the fount of all arcane knowledge like the mysteries of mathematics or the parts of speech and English grammar. Christina knew I could be counted on to hear her soft baby voice in the bedlam of family meals pleading to be let down from her high chair. My big gruff stepfather treated me as his princess. To my uncle Larry, I was his patient art model and the one who could talk with him about books poetry and life. Leaving home for college meant stepping out into a world filled with strangers. It was an intimidating thought. Within the circle of my family I was accepted loved and recognized as a valued member of the group. Outside the boundaries of family ties, I would be defined most often by my disability instead of my character appearance or any other criteria. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%'><span style='font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%'>My mother was the eldest of six surviving half Chippewa children. Two of her brothers had died in infancy. She acquired two half brothers and a step sister after she left home to be married to my father. So I was also a part of a large extended family. My father was an Apache from Texas. Since my parents divorced when I was eight, I didn’t have contact with that part of my heritage. The Chippewa are matrilineal, that is they reckon descent from the mother's line. Thus, part of my identity as a person was drawn from being Quietwater, Elk Clan, Swan Creek Band a Chippewa. I was going to be the first person in my generation to achieve a college degree. My extended family was pleased I was going to get an education because they hoped that a degree would make choices wider for me. All through school, I was expected to do my best and get good grades. My mom had always longed for more learning herself. She read constantly and taught us all to enjoy books. She insisted we use proper grammar and avoid using slang or obscenity because she felt that people judged those that did as ignorant. She hoped education would be the edge I needed to get ahead in life. I never suspected how great a part Tammy would play toward my achieving both mom’s dreams for me and my own aspirations. The remaining days of summer flew by as I tried to locate my things from boxes in the garage and prepare myself for the next big adventure. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in'><span style='font-size:10.0pt'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p></div></body></html>