When A Human Can't Talk

Shhhhhhhhhhh.

Joan lost her voice. She can’t tell us to do anything. She can’t talk on the phone. She can’t even say hello to the neighbors. Tonight, we were walking through the neighborhood, and a couple of new kids asked Joan what kind of dogs Shane and I were. Joan tried to say, “Big,” because it’s a short word and easier to say than, “Well I’m not sure. I think Shane is part Shepherd and Juno is part Newfy.” Little kids wouldn’t understand that anyway. But, the word big came out in a heavy whisper, and I’m not sure the kids heard her.

Then another neighbor was driving by and stopped his car: “Hey, Joan! How you doing?” he called. Poor Joan had to say hello without using her voice. I think he understood, though, because he said he hoped she’d be feeling better, and off he drove.

What an adventure in communication.

Now, if I lost my voice, I’d never be able to ask to come inside, and I wouldn’t know how to get people to give me extra attention. Joan knows how to get inside all by herself, so that’s no problem for her. But, if you can’t talk to people, they forget you very quickly. Joan’s in luck, though, because dogs don’t care if people can talk or not. And, we don’t forget our friends even when they get sick and can’t talk.

Also, we have a way of knowing things without verbal promptings.

Take tonight. Joan had to go to the store to get some medicine for her throat. Shane and I knew she was going to take us with her even before she knew it. And, when she went into the garage, there we were, waiting by the car.

Not only that, but we know what she would have said if she had been able to talk. She would have said, “Wow. How did you know you were coming with me? You’re such smart dogs.”

See what I mean? We don’t need to hear words out loud. We read them in thought form.

I’m going to sit outside now and think about extrasensory perception.

Best wishes, Juno

PS: See? I didn’t really have to write “best wishes,” because you already knew that I wished them for you.