“…Eyeballs…” Bk1 3. Nighte Search For A Lost Puppy

Hey! You Got Eyeballs In There?

By Kate Chamberlin

As Grace grows up, some of her stories are happy, some trying, some enlightening, and a few themes are sad, but, they’re all the warp and woof of what goes into the tapestry of life we call Family. The daily living skills and techniques demonstrated by the fictional characters in these stories are valid, tried and true.

Book I:  The Early Years

#1.  If You Can’t See…

#2. Elytra, The Ladybug

#3. The Night Search For A Missing Puppy

“I don’t need that stupid cane!” 5-year old Grace said to her mother. Grace tucked her hair behind her ears, settled a wiggling puppy on the floor at her feet, and climbed into the van. “We always go to the same camp and do the same things every summer.  I know my way around. Besides, this year I have Wheaton.”

“Wheaton is just our Black Lab Puppy to raise,” Mom said.  “She isn’t old enough to be trained to guide a person who is blind.  You will need your long, white cane.”

“Buckle up!” Dad called over his shoulder. He slipped on his aviator sun-glasses and they were off.

They got to the Adirondack family camp in time to take the same walk to the pond they took every night before going to sleep in a tent.

Bedtime came much too soon for Grace, but she climbed onto the cot and snuggled into her soft, warm sleeping bag.  The murmuring sounds of adults talking near the crackling camp fire soon put Grace to sleep.

What was that? Grace felt something cold and wet on her cheek! Where am I? She thought.

Wheaton pushed her cold wet nose into Grace’s cheek again and whined. Grace patted Wheaton and listened. All she heard were the night peepers; the water dripping from the maple leaves onto the tent; and the gentle snoring of others in her tent.

“Quiet! It’s night time, you silly puppy.”

Wheaton whined again.

“I know!” Grace whispered.  “I have to take you out.  I’ll go to the bathroom, too.”

Grace slipped her bare feet into her untied sneakers and put on her yellow rain coat. She unhooked Wheaton’s leash.

“I don’t need that stupid cane just to take you out,” she whispered and pushed her long white cane under her cot.

“Wheaton, heel.”

When Wheaton finished, they took the path to the latrine. Both of them couldn’t fit into the little bathroom, so Grace hooked the leash on the outside door latch.

“Wheaton, stay.  I won’t be long.”

When Grace came out and reached for the leash, it was not on the door latch.

“Wheaton, come,” Grace said, but

Wheaton didn’t come.

I must find her, Grace thought. She might have gone down to the pond. She really had fun there on our walk.

The cool, wet night air closed around Grace as she slowly moved along the stony path. The maple trees smelled damp and moldy.

Grace felt cold mud go over the top of her shoes. She had stepped in a puddle.

She bent over and felt with her hands until she found the edge of the mud.

“Wheaton, come,” Grace called again.  I wouldn’t have to use my hands if I had that stupid cane, she thought.

Grace tripped over the grass hump in the middle of the dirt lane. She dragged her foot along the edge of the lane to guide her to the turn off.

Grace held her arms straight out in front of her and moved them back and forth.

“Ouch!” she cried as she hit her hand on the big rock that marked the path to the pond.

“Wheaton liked jumping on and off the rock,” Grace said out loud, trying to be brave. Just then she smelled pine trees and turned into the path leading to the pond. The pat-pat of her feet seemed louder among the pine trees.

“Wheaton, come,” she called.

Her arms were so tired, she could hardly hold them up.

She pulled off her rain hood, took a few steps and listened.

A wet pine branch grabbed her bare ankle and she began to cry.  A sticky cobweb caught on her face. She rubbed it away with the back of her scratched, muddy hand.

The rhythmic song of the night peepers seemed louder with her hood off. It reminded her of the song her mobility teacher used for cane travel.

When at last she smelled the fishiness of the pond, she walked slowly until her feet splashed in the water.

As she stood very still and listened, she could only hear the rain falling on the pond.

“Wheaton, come, she called again.

What was that? Yes, it was a jangling sound quite near.  As she felt around for Wheaton and her jangling dog tags, her hand touched a cold slippery log.  She quickly pulled away.

Then she heard the jangle again.

She made herself feel along the slimy log.  There was Wheaton.  The leash had caught under the log.

“Oh, Wheaton, ” she cried and hugged the wet wiggling puppy. Wheaton covered Grace’s face with wet kisses.

Grace pulled the leash free. As she turned to go, she slipped and fell to her knees. Her hand landed on a long stick. She picked it up.

“It’s not my cane, Wheaton,” she said, “but it should help. My teacher always said, ‘Use your long, white cane to walk fast so you don’t shuffle.’”

Grace moved her stick-cane from side to side along the soft pine path. Now she could keep her tired arms at her sides.

Her stick-cane hit the big rock where she had hurt her hand before.

Grace trailed the stick along the grassy edge of the lane.  “Well, it really is easier walking with this stick-cane, Wheaton!” she said.

Suddenly, the end of the stick dropped down. She remembered her teacher saying, ‘If the cane dips down, poke around with the tip to find out if you can step over or around whatever it is.’

This time she didn’t sink in the big mud puddle.

She tap-tapped her way over the rest of the stony path. Left, right.  Left, right.  Grace and Wheaton marched back to the tent.

When the birds began to sing in the morning, a sunbeam peeped in through the tent flap to show Grace with her long white cane snug in her sleeping bag.  One muddy puppy lay curled on the floor next to two muddy shoes and a stick.

NOTE:  adapted from “The Night Search” by Kate Chamberlin, Illustrated by Dot Yoder, Jason and Nordic Publishers, 1997. “The Night Search” went out of print in 2015 when the publishers went out of business.