Nearly three years ago, a nasty accident changed Roger Miles' life for the better. Blind in one eye and with limited vision in the other, the 45-year-old director of student activities at American International College in Springfield, Massachusetts, was caning across the busy liberal arts campus when he mistook a 6-foot wall for a curb.

The result: a couple of broken ribs, a separated shoulder, various scratches and scrapes, and a damaged sense of confidence. "That's when I decided I would look into guides," he says.

Miles' research led him to Fidelco Guide Dog Foundation, a Bloomfield, Connecticut-based organization that breeds, raises and trains German Shepherds for the blind. Not long after, Sega, a 2-year-old, black-and-tan shepherd, joined Miles in his daily quest to lead a normal life.

Already trained, Sega arrived with his trainer at the home Miles shares with his wife Lucille on March I, 1996. For the next three weeks, man, dog and trainer went to the places Miles frequents to teach him to integrate this new canine tool into his life. "We went to my job, my house, my father's house, my mother-in-law's house, around my neighborhood, to Boston, to the airport," Miles says. "Sega was leashed to me. We created a bond pretty quickly. Within a month, Sega knew that I was the boss and that we were something special."

That "something special" gave Miles his life back. He once again feels comfortable flying around the country to job-related conferences or going in for a routine eye exam or walking around campus. "Sega absolutely changed my life," Miles said. "I'm not afraid to go anywhere, I'm not afraid to do anything. I travel. He's my best friend. He's my guide, but also when you take the harness off, he's so lovey."
"I'm a 45-year-old man, and I'm not ashamed to say Sega and I cuddle. He rolls on his back, puts his head on my lap. Since I got him, other than sleeping time, Sega's been with me constantly. If I go for a ride with one of my friends, Sega comes. He's been to wakes, funerals, on aircraft."

Sega did more than liberate Miles from a life filled with fear. With the three to five miles the two walk daily, the relationship has improved Miles' health markedly. A juvenile diabetic diagnosed at age 9, Miles' sight-robbing glaucoma and diabetic retinopathy were a direct result of his disease. To compound things, poor vision was robbing Miles of his courage to live an active life, a necessary component for a diabetic to lead a healthy life.

"My personal physician noticed the change in my health because I've gotten out and started to do the exercise that is so vital to diabetics," Miles said. "Being so sedentary had been affecting me."

Miles was impressed with Sega from day one. "There isn't a week that goes by that Sega doesn't make me just shake my head at his intelligence level," he said. "His loyalty is second to none. His intelligence is outstanding. His vocabulary is huge: in, out, up, down, elevator, escalator, door. He knows 30 or more commands, and it's always changing. I go to the elevator and ask him to find the button, he goes right to the button. What he understands when we're walking just astounds people who see us." And it continues to amaze Miles.

However, all work and no play makes Sega a dull boy. Miles fulfills Sega's urge to romp with daily ball-playing sessions. "I take the harness off and he gets to run around like a knucklehead," Miles says. When play time's over, it's like turning off a switch. "His temperament, demeanor and even his stance change as soon as I put the harness on. He stops whatever he may be doing. If I get him with a tennis ball in his mouth, and I put the harness on him, the ball immediately comes out of his mouth. He knows that it's time for work-no more playing around, he's ready to listen."

Miles' condition might prevent him from recognizing faces as near as 18 inches away, but it hasn't stop him from seeing what a good thing he has. "I have a special dog, one of the best that I've seen," Miles said. "He's brilliant. I totally trust Sega to keep me safe."