One of my favorite things to do is take my dog to the dog park. I assume, from her spaz outs as we pull up, it’s one of her favorite activities as well. You’d never guess she was deaf, unless you were watching closely. I talk to her often, but I don’t speak her commands. I cross the park to simply “tell” her to get down from a picnic table. I don’t shout, clap, or whistle. She’s very in tune to light and movement. Butterflies, shadows of any sort, and reflections from cell phones are high priority. However, being a proper Southern Lady, she will make sure to stop and greet all of the newcomers (people first, then dogs). The usual canine…er…”greeting” startles her, but it usually turns to play energy almost immediately. If there are more than two or three dogs in a romp, she’ll find higher ground for a better view, or simply go about her shadow chasing. People really enjoy her, and we’ve all loved watching her get more comfortable in her own skin.
Her sweet nature and her quirks draw attention, not her disability. If I do say so myself, she’s also a pretty girl. I can never get by without someone asking what kind of dog she is. I’ve taken to replying with a simple shrug and an, “Awesome.” Someone even told me they would have taken her for a “million-dollar” dog. I’m not sure I believed it, but I thanked them all the same.
These are some of the suggestions I’ve gotten:
What do you think she is?
I think she’s a Pretty Pretty Princess, is what she is . . . .
That’s right. And don’t nobody better forget it.