If your pet could talk, what would be the first thing it says?
My Alsatian, Sheena, did speak—not in human words, but through her smiling eyes, her sobbing whines, her groaning sighs. When her gaze softened into that familiar curve, she told me she was happy. When she curled beside me, she told me she was content. When she leapt uninvited onto my bed, she told me she was my child—and claimed her rightful place.
Sheena understood me not by my vocabulary, but by my tone, my posture, my scent. We shared a wordless communion; a single glance carried all we needed.
Take her meals. Twice daily I fed her—kibble with milk in the morning, kibble with beef in the evening, and occasional snacks between. But I knew her heart leaned towards my plate: a sirloin or T-bone as a rare indulgence, and freshly cooked rice with minced beef as her daily delight. She told me she loved these—polishing off a steak in a breath, emptying a bowl of rice in under a minute. Yet she remained, at heart, a spoiled child; sometimes a little persuasion was required to finish her proper rations.
But what I remember most was her unfailing clock. Hidden from street and neighbour, our house stood secluded behind front and back gardens—yet Sheena always knew the hour. As dusk settled and my steps approached the gate, there she would be: nose wedged through the iron bars, tail sweeping the ground in a frantic, wordless welcome. She never mistook the time, never confused my footfall with another’s. That was not instinct—that was knowing.
Across the twelve years she gave me, what bound us was love—and that love perfected our bond. She was right: she was my child, and she held a vast portion of my life. Though she left years ago, her print upon my heart has never faded.
I hold that dogs are among the most welcoming of beings—yet not all treat them with the love and respect they deserve. They are deeply intelligent creatures, ranked before man in the order of creation (Genesis 1:24-27). To me, and to countless owners, they are the most loyal and gracious of companions. Human language is for humans; the language of dogs is for those who truly love them.
May the poem below invite you to pause and wonder at the greatness of the Almighty Creator.
—
“Wandering in Grace”
First beasts were shaped, then man and woman made,
And order from the primal void was laid.
The fowl in sky, the beasts on earth that roam—
Each found its place, and made the wide world home.
Then man and woman, blessed to multiply,
Took root on earth beneath the open sky.
They built their nests, they dug their dens—not rest,
But shelter for the young upon the breast.
By hearth and gate, the faithful guardian stays—
The loyal hound who loves through all his days.
Each household cherishes its chosen kind,
Each after each, in nature’s ties entwined.
So wander they in gladness, self-possessed—
In all that lives, the Creator’s beauty blest.
—
en yan hua fang 