The thunder wakes me.

At first I think it is a garbage truck picking up a dumpster or something, but then I hear the rain. And then the phone rings.

Blaz raises his head, brown eyes following me as I scrabble for the phone. I can hear his tail thumping on the floor. “Hello?” I manage in a sleepy voice.

“Emma?” The voice on the other line is strained, “We have a situation…male, age eight missing in the Allamuchy Mountain State Park.” I’m already at the closet, pulling out the pack of gear I keep for occasions just like this.

“How long has he been missing?” I ask. “Sixteen hours,” is the reply, “and it’s getting colder by the hour.”

“I’ll be there in four hours, David.” Blaz is up pacing, brown eyes alive with excitement, tail swishing through the air as he follows my progress. I finally get off the phone with David, only to have to make a call to the restaurant. I won’t be coming in today.

Less than an hour later we’re ready to go. I have on my all-weather gear (complete with fluorescent orange vest). Blaz wears his own fluorescent orange vest, complete with reflective panels and the word RESCUE emblazoned on either side of his body.

We head out to the Chevy Blazer. It’s going to be a long drive.

I was born in Frankfurt, Germany on March 18, 1978. My parents, Niklas and Katharina, were both kin to the Get of Fenris, as am I. My father was a German diplomat and I spent much of my childhood in other countries. Of my Garou relatives I know a little – my parents were far too busy to teach me very much, and so I know this much about them: they are big, they are mean, don’t talk back, be as polite as possible and, whatever you do, do not carry silver around them.

Unless, of course, you have a death wish.

When I was ten we settled in Washington, D.C. in the United States. I loved where we lived and for the first time, I was able to have a dog. It was a little half-shepherd, half-lab named Malta. She wasn’t very smart, or very pretty, but I loved her anyway.

I attended private school along with most of the other children of diplomats and politicians. It wasn’t…fun…but I have always felt that there is more to life than “fun.” By the time I was sixteen I had my American Citizenship. I was fortunate in that my parents understood (and encouraged) my desire to become a part of this country.

When I graduated from high school in 1996, my parents probably thought I’d go on to some prestigious university. I had the grades for it, but not the desire to do so. Instead, I took a year off and spent it doing something I’d been interested in most of my life – mountain climbing and hiking the Appalachian Trail along with the scores of tourists who visit the area every year. I never dreamed the skills I learned there, along with my summer camping experiences in high school, would come in so handy in the future. More proof, I suppose, that Gaia knows what She’s doing.

When I got back from my year-long break, I enrolled in a small two-year college majoring in Business. I know, I know – sounds weird for me, doesn’t it? Well, somewhere along the way out in the middle of nowhere I got the idea of opening a restaurant. Oh, did I forget to mention that I minored in Culinary Arts? Silly me.

I graduated in 1999 at the top of my class (go figure). I got a job in Portland, Oregon interning under a restaurant owner. A year later I set out on my own, opening a restaurant in downtown Atlantic City, New Jersey. My parents have helped me immensely, between start-up costs and my frequent out-of-town trips, I don’t know what I would have done without mom and dad.

The out-of-town trips…I suppose I should explain that. In 1997I purchased my first German Shepherd Dog, Max. He wasn’t a fancy or expensive dog, but he had the intelligence and courage that define the breed.

I was busy with school, but never too busy for Max. It soon became apparent that he needed obedience training, and I enrolled him in an obedience school recommended to me by a friend. He took to the discipline so well that the head trainer, Alex, recommended that I get him into Schitzhund training.

Max took to Schitzhund the same way he’d taken to obedience training. But, in late 1998 I noticed that he was limping. I brought him to the vet thinking that it was just a little sprain, but the diagnosis was devastating – it was cancer.

The tumor was inoperable; it had wrapped itself tightly around Max’s spine. The vet gave me two options – take him home and try to keep him as comfortable as possible until he passed away, or put him down. I chose the latter because I knew that it would be cruel to prolong his agony. It was the hardest decision I’d ever had to make.

In the late spring of ’99, a friend of mine, Amy Thatcher, called to let me know that she was headed to Germany to pick up a German Shepherd she’d purchased from a breeder there. She wanted to know if I was interested in buying a dog for myself. I was still mourning Max, and so all I said was to “keep an eye out for a puppy I’d like.”

I didn’t hear from her again for nearly three weeks. Then she called one night and told me to meet her at the airport the following morning. She said she’d found the perfect dog.

I was skeptical, but I showed up at the appointed time. Amy was in the unloading area with her dog, Shasta, already out of her crate. The crate with my dog was sitting beside the two. I wasn’t so sure about this – he looked big and I’d said I wanted a puppy.

But then I opened the crate and this bundle of energy came bursting out and looked up at me with those big brown eyes of his. That’s all it took to hook me.

Yeah, I’m a sucker, I know.

Blaz vom Linsengericht was his name, and he’d already gotten certified as a Schitzhund II dog at only two years old. I was flabbergasted that his owner was willing to sell him, but Amy told me that the man was old and just wanted a good home for Blaz.

I never expected a dog like this. He was all fire and determination, but he was also incredibly gentle with children and the sick and injured. He was a natural when in came to search and rescue, which is where I turned my attention next. In the summer of 2000 we joined the National Association for Search and Rescue, or NASAR for short.

Over the next year we participated in over twenty searches. They have ranged from children found missing to hikers who’ve gotten lost to avalanche victims. In every case Blaz has performed admirably and I cannot convey in words how proud I am of him.

So here we are at the present. I’m still running the restaurant (which seems to be just now gaining in popularity) and Blaz is still with me. He’s five years old now and beginning to settle down a bit. But every time the phone rings, I see the excitement flare up in his eyes. Mom came to live with me last year after dad died, so it’s really begun to be a full house. Thankfully she and Blaz get along.