September is Deaf Awareness Month (in human land, not canine world), and it’s got me thinking about some of our recent experiences with both a Deaf human and dog. I’m sharing a couple here and on Instagram, but a little background info first:
My human 4-year-old, Astrid, is hard-of-hearing. Deafness is a spectrum; it’s not a binary like you either have hearing or you don’t. She attends an American Sign Language immersion program, and she wears hearing aids. She’s learning both spoken English and ASL, and our family is learning ASL right alongside her. John, Violet, and I are all hearing.
My dog, 2ish-year-old Penny, is profoundly deaf. She doesn’t hear anything. (She’s also partially-sighted, but that’s a topic for another post.)
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Isn’t she the cutest?!?!
Two stories for you today, one on how to meet a deaf person or pup in public and one on how not to. Bear in mind, the lessons here probably apply to any disability, not just deafness.
A Positive Approach to Disability
Over the summer, our family attended our town’s Pride festival, which is organized by a group of high schoolers. They do an amazing job. It’s always such a fun-filled, joyful event with lots of activities and food.
This year, we took Penny because, it turns out, she ADORES going to new places and meeting new people.
Astrid wore her hearing aids, of course, and Penny wore her leash sleeve. (I got this on Amazon because of course.) So, for both of my gals, there was some outward signaling of their deafness.
Throughout the entire day, people were so respectful, asking if they could greet Penny and what the best way to get her attention was. In several cases, people assumed John was the one who was deaf and partially-sighted and asked if Penny was a working dog.
Many vendors signed hello and thank you to Astrid, and for the entire day, no one was anything but kind, friendly, and respectful. It was lovely and how life should be.
But, unfortunately, that isn’t what usually happens.
How Many Approach Disability
I waffled on which story to share for this one because, sadly, that first story is rare. For Deaf Awareness Month, I’m going to share a few of these stories on my reels, but for now, I’ll share this one:
Astrid, Penny, and I often go to a playground after I preschool pickup. We have a small pocket of time each day before we collect Violet from the bus, so I use it doing fun stuff with Asti since I know when she starts kindergarten next year, this precious one-on-one time will disappear.
On this day, we were at a playground she calls “the tiny houses playground” because it has a little neighborhood of play houses in the far back. She played away, while Penny and I trailed around behind her. Once we were all exhausted and overheated, we walked back towards our care. A grandmother stopped us.
“My grandson wants to play in the houses,” she said. “But I can’t find them! Do you know where to go?”
As I gave her directions, her grandson cowered behind her legs, sneaking terrified glances at Penny.
The grandmother pushed him forward a bit. “He only knows one dog, his uncle’s border collie. That dog jumps all over him, so he thinks all dogs will jump all over him.”
I crouched down and said hi. “This is Penny. She’s sweet and gentle, and she definitely will not jump on you if you want to give it a try to pet her.”
He took a tentative step forward. The grandmother, noticing Penny’s leash sleeve, startled visibly.
“Is she actually deaf?”
“She is,” I said, as her grandson stuck out his little fingers for a tentative touch.
“Ohhh, what a pity,” the grandmother bemoaned. “That poor thing.”
Thankfully, Astrid was off in her own little la-la land watching butterflies flutter around the flower garden and did not hear the sadness and regret dripping from this woman’s mouth. How would she feel hearing that deafness was something to pity? Because it’s most certainly not.
And Penny, thankfully, can help teach in these moments.
“It’s not a pity at all!” I replied as cheerfully as I could. “Penny is a happy, loving dog who can learn everything she needs to know with ASL.”
I’m not sure what she said in reply because her grandson took off a second later and she chased after him.
But that’s what we usually get. People pity Penny. I honestly think it’s because most people have never actually met a Deaf person before and perhaps can’t imagine a life different from their own. Whatever the fact, there are two big points I hope are takeaways:
- Deafness is a spectrum. Just because Astrid wears hearing aids doesn’t make her “less deaf” or more subject to anyone’s pity. Same thing for Penny.
- Don’t pity deaf dogs or deaf people. Or anyone with any disability, for that matter. There’s no need whatsoever to feel sorrow for a deaf dog. (In fact, perhaps the opposite because thunderstorms, fireworks, vacuum cleaners… none of it gets to this lucky dog!)
Did you know September is Deaf Awareness Month? What questions do you have or experiences you’ve encountered like those I shared today?
My girls at the “tiny houses” park. (:
