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The Language of Love

Grads Deni Elliot & Albertaby graduate Deni Elliott

It starts with the click of a toenail on the wood floor next to my bed. A half-hour before the alarm, Alberta starts our morning ritual, tapping in place. Then, she lets out a loud Labby yawn, a snort and a shake.

โ€œOkay, you can come up,โ€ I mumble through my sleep.

Light as a feather, she leaps, to wedge all 52 lbs into my arms or to collapse against me full length, stretching as long as a Labrador can go. Noses my head, slurps my chin. I wake enough to give the requested belly rub.

Albertaโ€™s tail rapidly wags her response. โ€œGood morning. Iโ€™m sure happy to be here with you.โ€

Our first year together, I fretted about all that I didnโ€™t know of Albertaโ€™s life before me. How did she play as a puppy? What were her favorite toys? What words of encouragement did her Guiding Eyes trainers use? Albertaโ€™s patient puppy raisers and school trainers answered my questions as best they could. But, it never felt like enough.

Then, I realized that it was the present – not the past – that felt incomplete; I needed to focus on Albertaโ€™s and my own language of love.

Routine and ritual reinforce connection. Alberta laps up her breakfast while my coffee is still perking. By the time I have a brewed cup in one hand, Alberta is shoving her licked-clean bowl into the other.

Our cues to one another are so subtle that colleagues ask, โ€œHow do you know?โ€ And I have to work to remember back to Albertaโ€™s subtle signal.

โ€œShe stopped at the down curb.โ€

โ€œShe pushed me out of the way when that person stepped in front of me.โ€

โ€œShe stepped up at the stair.โ€

Deni Elliott and Guiding Eyes dog Alberta by MelissaLyttle.comโ€œI know where she is under the table because she puts her front paw on one foot and leans her body against my other leg.โ€

โ€œShe gives a strong pull on the harness so I know that she understands when Iโ€™ve asked her to take me someplace.โ€ I begin to count all of the locations Alberta has learned in a year. To the classroom. To the office. To the bank. Letโ€™s go home now.

This dog is a living GPS.

Alberta knows to Park before we go into the airport. It will be a long time before she has another chance to go. Otherwise, we both keep to her potty routine morning, mid-day, dinner, bedtime.

I no longer worry if I am using the same words of praise that Alberta heard in her former life. When I exclaim โ€œGood Job!โ€ she dances with pride. Iโ€™ve learned to not use that phrase in that tone of voice in response to any other person or dog. If I do, Alberta sulks.

I now respect our private language. When I tuck her into her own bed at night, I tell Alberta that she is the very best girl in the whole world. She nuzzles my hand to say, โ€œYou are too.โ€

Thatโ€™s all I need to know.