Ten years ago today, I was at Ground Zero with my sainted Labrador, doing SAR work.  We had been planning on leaving that day to go camping in Maine, an annual fall tradition.  Our plans got delayed a bit when the pager went off.

I will never forget:

The surreal feeling of being the only car on the deserted New Jersey Turnpike.

The acerbic, toxic stench of Ground Zero.

The flags and banners draped at every overpass we drove under from Chesapeake City MD to Acadia Park, Maine.

The people across the Eastern Seaboard, at every rest stop we stopped at to let him stretch his legs, who saw his SAR vest or harness and wanted to thank us, speak to him, give him something, anything.

The Bay Dog.

Tomorrow will be better.