Leslie Smith: Lessons in Listening From a Deaf Dog

The gap of understanding between humans and animals is vast, and building a bridge of communication is a rewarding part of being a pet owner. Leslie Smith brings us this Perspective.

My dog’s name is Mosey, but he’ll never know it: He’s completely deaf. We adopted him two years ago when he was around five years old, and as far as anyone can tell, his world has been completely silent since the day he was born.

It was impossible not to find him charming in those first few weeks at home. He made adorable grunty noises as he gobbled his kibble, and the twitches and turns of his giant ears betrayed the fact that not a trace of sound was coming through. He was amazing with other animals, especially our older pit bull, Sprout.

But that initial stretch had also been frustrating. According to the rescue group, he’d literally spent the first four years of his life in a single room. He knew no hand signals. He wasn’t housetrained. At times, he’d stare vacantly through us, seemingly unreachable, and it didn’t help that he’s a tank — the circumference of his neck dwarfed only by his enormous cranium.

When he finally learned sit, I was elated. We’d give him an enthusiastic thumbs-up, pairing the gesture with an exaggerated smile and his favorite treat, hoping he’d somehow grasp we were saying “good boy!” Slowly, the world did start making more sense to him. And I began to realize how thoroughly I’d misunderstood him.

His struggle to hear what we wanted was not about deafness, but a lack of exposure. His disengagement wasn’t obstinance or apathy, but a coping mechanism from spending his first four years alone and ignored. Inside this powerful tank, a sensitive soul was peering out across a soundless landscape.

The first time Mosey wagged his tail after I gave him the thumbs up, you’d have thought I’d found the cure for cancer. It’s remarkable to be able to tell a member of another species that you love them. It’s exhilarating to be able to do so with the volume stuck at zero. While this dog will never know his name, he understands his days of isolation are over. He “hears” that he is someone. Someone who matters.

With a Perspective, I’m Leslie Smith.

A fan of pigs, pigeons, pit bulls and the otherwise misunderstood, Leslie Smith is a writer living in Oakland.