So much more than a best friend

Recently, I started reading this blog. It's written by Stephen Kuusisto, poet and author of the memoir Planet of the Blind. Steve's life journey is a moving one, but it is his present journey that I am most interested in just now.
I met Steve in 1996. He was employed at Guiding Eyes for the Blind, and I was a student there in training for my guide dog, Garnet. Back then, Steve was working with his first dog, Corky. This week, he begins training with his third dog. I know that much about the facilities and the training method at G.E.B. has changed in the almost twelve years since I was there, but my memories of the place are fond ones.
Back then, you learned the name, gender, and breed of your dog the evening before you got to meet the dog. On meeting day, the dogs were given baths and groomed so they would be at their best. On that day, May 7, 1996, I went into the large carpeted training room and was told to call Garnet to me. She ran to me, tail wagging, sniffed my shoes, then ran back to Lynn, her trainer. I did not know then that such would be the pattern of our next few days together. Garnet does not give away her affection easily, and she was very attached to Lynn. Throughout the next week, during our "bonding time" with our dogs in our dormitory style rooms, Garnet would allow me to pet her, then she'd hear Lynn in the hall and would bolt for the door, scratching and whining to be let out. To say that this made it difficult for me to trust her when we were, say, crossing a busy intersection, is a gross understatement. I guess I had been at G.E.B. for nearly half of the four-week training when I awoke in the early morning to an altogether strange sensation. I was not alone in my bed. Curled up at the foot of the bed was a very warm, very content black Lab. In that moment, I knew Garnet and I would be okay.
1996 was a very important year in my life. In March, I received an official diagnoses of Von Hipple-Lindau and was introduced firsthand to what that would mean for my life. In April, I had the first of what would be several brain operations. It would have been easy after that to view myself as a sick person with insurmountable struggles ahead of me, but I did not, and Garnet is part of the reason for that. She allowed me to fearlessly go places I never would have attempted before. With Garnet, I felt confident enough to accept my first real job, which was in state government in Frankfort, Kentucky, three hours from the familiar comfort that was home. Then in August, I met Michael, and we all became a family together the following year. I tease Michael that Garnet has seniority over him.
Reading about Steve Kuusisto's latest adventure has me thinking a lot about my early days and years with Garnet. In the beginning, we were as likely to go chasing butterflies as to class, and the appearance of a squirrel on the sidewalk was a rip-roaring adventure rather than the quaint moment that it is now. In 2005, Garnet retired from being a working dog. Now she is a very spoiled, highly educated house pet living a life of leisure. She is no longer able to jump on the bed and needs a boost to get into the car, circumstances that break my heart a little bit every day. But her health is good and her mind is still sharp. I am anxious about how she will react when the new baby comes. I'm sure she will be jealous in the beginning because she is used to being the baby herself, but Michael and I will make an extra effort to make her feel just as loved as ever. We figure that once the baby is old enough to start acquiring crumbs, the baby will be Garnet's new best friend. Then I'll be the one who will need some consoling and extra attention.