I am not sure whether you understand English, but I’d like to think you do.

I’d like to think that you know exactly what I’m saying to you. I’d like to think I speak fluent dog.

Heaven knows, I speak to you non-stop. Because you’re blind. Because you need me to keep talking. When I talk to you, you don’t feel so disconnected. That way you’re always part of what’s going on.

So I’ve been talking a lot since I brought you home. I say anything and everything to you, so you feel involved.

I tell you when I’m going to the bathroom. When I read a book, I read aloud. When we go for walks, I describe what I’m seeing. I talk to you about the green crabgrass, the particular shade of blue in the sky.

Yeah, I know it’s silly. You probably can’t understand me. Although sometimes I’m not sure.

Sometimes I think you actually know what I’m saying. Because there are occasions when I tell you how much I love you. And when you hear this, you sort of lean into me like you know precisely what “I love you” means.

Other times, when I tell you “It’s going to be okay,” after something frightens you, you tuck your head into my chest because I think that, on some level, you know. You know what I mean.

I can only imagine how scared you get when a loud sound occurs nearby. I can only guess at how disoriented you feel when you stumble off the curb.

I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to teach a blind dog. I am learning as I go. I have so much more to learn. I’m reading books. I’m watching videos. I’m trying. I promise you, I am. But I am an inadequate trainer.

Any troublesome issues lie within me, not you. You’re doing perfectly. You have learned so much.

For starters, within two days of being at our house you memorized our entire floorplan. You mapped out the whole backyard. In 48 hours, you’d learned every step, every rise, every interior wall, every drop off, and every piece of gravel in the yard.

And yesterday you followed the command “sit” for the first time ever. I cheered for you like a schoolkid. Because you and I have been working so hard on learning to sit. It seems like such a simple trick.

But when you’re blind, nothing is simple.

I was so proud of you for placing your hindparts on the floor that I gave you half a sirloin steak.

Namely, because you work so incredibly hard. And even though your face is battered from past abuse, and although your body is pocked with scars from your former aggressor, you continue to keep trying.

Sometimes, I swear, you get depressed. Lord knows, you have the right to be despondent. All you’ve been through.

And sometimes, when you get down in the dumps, and you hole up in my office, I don’t know how to reach you. So I just sit beside you on the floor and tell you how special you are.

Because you ARE special.

I’m not just blowing smoke, Marigold. I’m not just saying this because you’re my friend. I’m saying this because I’ve known a lot of dogs in my day, and you’re un-freaking-believable.

You had your head crushed by a man who was probably about my age. A man who left for you dead. You were seen wandering highways. You were starving to death.

And yet you’ve come to trust me. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. I don’t deserve your trust.

I’ll tell you the truth, darling. If those things had happened to me, you know what I’d do? I would never trust another human being again.

I would tuck my head and run headlong into the woods and disappear forevermore. I would never ever have any contact with humankind. And if I died of starvation out there, so be it. I dang sure wouldn’t put any faith in people. Not now. Not ever.

Because mankind is the only animal capable of cruelty. He can be quick to anger and slow to exercise mercy. He can be vain and self-important. He builds monuments unto himself and then spends the rest of his wealth maintaining them.

I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to trust another man, woman, or child.

But somehow you do.

Somehow you’ve made your way into my life, and you trust me. And you’ve made me want to be a better man.

So when I read this letter aloud to you, even if you don’t understand the words, just lean into me when I say “I love you.” Because I never get tired of that.