Law Office of Elizabeth Rizos Zougras, Esq.

09/25/2026

09/07/2026

He was blind on the 78th floor when the plane hit. His guide dog led him down 1,463 steps through smoke and chaos.
They escaped minutes before the tower collapsed.
On the morning of September 11, 2001, Michael Hingson arrived at his office on the 78th floor of the North Tower of the World Trade Center. It was a beautiful Tuesday morning in New York City. Clear blue skies. Michael, a sales manager for a data protection company, settled in for what seemed like a routine workday.
His guide dog, Roselle, a yellow Labrador Retriever, curled up under his desk for her morning nap.
Michael had been blind since birth. He couldn't see the planes approaching. Couldn't see the skyline or the people below or the flames that would soon engulf the building.
At 8:46 AM, American Airlines Flight 11 slammed into the North Tower—just eighteen floors above Michael's office.
The building lurched violently. The impact sounded like an explosion. Jet fuel poured down the elevator shafts. Smoke began filling the floors. People screamed. Office furniture crashed. The ceiling tiles shook loose.
Michael couldn't see any of it. But he could feel the building sway. He could smell the smoke. He could hear the terror.
And then he felt Roselle beside him.
She wasn't barking. She wasn't panicking. She was awake, alert, and completely calm.
In that moment, Michael knew: if his guide dog wasn't afraid, they had a chance.
"Roselle, forward," he commanded.
They started moving toward the stairwell. Michael's colleague, David Frank—a man who had always been afraid of dogs—grabbed Michael's shoulder.
"I'm staying with you," David said.
Together, they entered Stairwell B. The descent began.
1,463 steps. 78 floors. Smoke thickening. Heat rising. Injured people crying out. The smell of jet fuel everywhere.
Roselle led the way, one step at a time.
Michael held her harness with his left hand. His right hand touched the wall. David held his shoulder. They moved steadily downward while others pushed past in panic.
Around the 50th floor, they encountered firefighters climbing up—heavy gear, oxygen tanks, determined faces. Many of those firefighters never came back down.
"God bless you," Michael said to each one they passed.
Around the 30th floor, a woman near them broke down completely.
"We're not going to make it!" she sobbed. "We're going to die!"
Michael stopped. He couldn't see her face, but he could hear her terror.
"If Roselle and I can do it," he said calmly, "so can you. Just keep walking."
She did. They all did.
Roselle kept walking. Down and down. Steady. Calm. Focused.
At one point, she paused near a water fountain. Someone poured water into Michael's hand, and he let Roselle drink. Even in crisis, she took care of herself so she could keep taking care of him.
The stairwell was packed with people—thousands descending, some injured, some helping others, all trying to survive. But Roselle never wavered. She navigated through the chaos with perfect composure.
One hour after they started, they reached the lobby.
The once-beautiful entrance was destroyed. Debris everywhere. Emergency personnel shouting instructions. The sound of things falling, crashing, breaking.
"Get out! Get out now!" someone yelled.
Michael, Roselle, and David pushed through the doors and emerged onto the street.
Outside was chaos. Sirens. Screaming. Papers falling from the sky like snow. People running in every direction.
And then the South Tower collapsed.
The sound was deafening. A massive cloud of dust and debris exploded toward them—a wall of darkness that swallowed everything. People who could see were suddenly blind too, choking on ash, unable to find their way.
But Michael had been navigating without sight his entire life. And he had Roselle.
"Roselle, forward," he commanded again.
She led him through the blackness. Around obstacles he couldn't see. Away from danger he couldn't identify. She stopped at the edge of a subway entrance—a stairwell that would take them underground to cleaner air.
They descended into the subway station. When they emerged blocks away, they could breathe again.
They kept walking. North. Away from the towers. Roselle guided Michael for nearly 100 blocks to safety.
At 10:28 AM, the North Tower—the building they'd escaped from—collapsed. If they had been just minutes slower, they would have died.
But they weren't slower. Because Roselle never panicked. Never rushed. Never failed.
David Frank, the man who'd been afraid of dogs his entire life, later said that Roselle saved his life. He trusted her completely. He'd held onto Michael's shoulder for 78 floors because he believed in that dog.
After they reached safety, Roselle finally showed emotion. She lay down on the grass, exhausted. Michael sat beside her, his hand still on her harness, both of them covered in ash and dust but alive.
"Good girl," Michael whispered. "Good girl."
In the days and weeks after 9/11, Roselle became famous. She received awards. She was honored by the American Kennel Club. Guide Dogs for the Blind, the organization that trained her, received international recognition.
But to Michael, she was just his partner. His guide. His friend who'd led him to safety when the world was falling apart.
Michael wrote a book about their experience: "Thunder Dog: The True Story of a Blind Man, His Guide Dog, and the Triumph of Trust at Ground Zero."
He became a public speaker, telling their story around the world—not just about survival, but about trust, preparation, and the incredible bond between humans and working dogs.
Roselle continued working as Michael's guide dog until she retired. In 2011, at the age of nine and a half, she died peacefully from natural causes.
Michael was heartbroken. But he knew she'd lived a full life—a life of purpose and service and extraordinary courage when it mattered most.
Today, Michael continues speaking about Roselle. About guide dogs. About disability rights. About the power of staying calm in crisis.
But mostly, he speaks about trust.
Because on September 11, 2001, Michael Hingson put his life in the paws of a Labrador Retriever. And she brought him home.
Think about that for a moment. While thousands of people with perfect vision panicked, ran blindly, made fatal mistakes—a blind man and his guide dog calmly walked to safety.
Because Michael trusted Roselle completely. And Roselle had been trained for exactly this—to stay calm, to lead, to save.
Bravery doesn't always roar. Sometimes it's quiet. Steady. One step at a time.
On September 11, 2001, a guide dog named Roselle led her blind partner down 1,463 steps through smoke, chaos, and terror.
She never panicked. Never rushed. Never left his side.
And when the tower collapsed behind them, they were already walking to safety.
Michael never let go of her harness that day.
And she never let him fall.
That's trust. That's partnership. That's love.
Roselle passed away in 2011, her work complete. But her legacy lives on in every person who heard their story and understood:
Heroes don't always wear capes. Sometimes they wear harnesses.
And sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is simply keep walking forward—one faithful step at a time.

03/29/2026

I have attended CPR classes over the years, but was never told this particular scenario. I was told that when your body starts sweating profusely for no apparent reason followed by what feels like a spasm at the end of your esophagus, that is your body’s warning sign.

When you are alone and have a heart attack, what are you gonna do? A really good post that can't be shared often enough:

1. Take a 2 minute break and read this.
Let's say it's 5:25 pm and you're driving home after an unusually hard day's work.
2. You are really tired and frustrated.
All of a sudden you experience chest pains. They are starting to radiate in the arm and jaw. It feels like being stabbed in the chest and heart. You're only a few miles away from the nearest hospital or home.
3. Unfortunately you don't know if you can make it.
4. Maybe you've taken CPR training, but the person running the course hasn't told you how to help yourself.
5. How do you survive a heart attack when you're alone when it happens? A person who is feeling weak and whose heart is beating hard has only about 10 seconds before losing consciousness.
6. But you can help yourself by coughing repeatedly and very strongly! Deep breaths before every cough. Coughing should be repeated every second until you arrive at the hospital or until your heart starts to beat normally.
7. Deep breathing gives oxygen to your lungs and coughing movements boost the heart and blood circulation. Heart pressure also helps to restore a normal heartbeat. That’s how cardiac arrest victims can make it to the hospital for the right treatment.
8. Cardiologists say if someone gets this message and passes it on to 10 people, we can expect to save at least one life.
9. FOR WOMEN: You should know that women have additional and different symptoms. Rarely have crushing chest pain or pain in the arms. Often have indigestion and tightness across the back at the bra line plus sudden fatigue.
Instead of posting jokes, you're helping save lives by spreading this message.
❤️ COPY (hold your finger, click on the text and select copy, go to your own page and where you normally want to write, select finger again and paste)!