GuardianI regained my independence the day Bony came into my life. Bony—or more properly Bonaparte—was a black and tan German shepherd with a long, wet, inquisitive nose and sharply pointed, upright ears. Bony, you see, was my guide dog, my eyes, my guardian.
Let me explain. My name is Russell Gorden, and for twenty-two years I was your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, garden variety hunk, a golden-haired, violet-eyed, buffed, s*x-hungry, over-achieving WASP. I had life by the balls and was squeezing hard when life got tired of it and squeezed back. Pushed back. Hell, it shoved me off the board. I came down with a rare exotic fever and damned near died. I recovered…except for my eyesight. Blind as a bat…well, not quite. I see shades of gray and glimpse mysterious, amorphous shapes now and then.
