There are so many things I’d like to tell my dog, but more importantly, there are so many questions I’d like to ask her. Over the years, I’ve compiled a list––curiosities about her senses, her emotions, her awareness of family. Here’s a peek at what that list looks like.

1. What do you see when you look at me?

I know you’re getting older and your eyesight isn’t 20/20, but I still wonder whether or not you see me as a complex body, or just as a big, blurry blob with a mouth that’s constantly opening and closing. I know that you can tell when I’m crying, because you never fail to hobble over and lick my face as soon as I start getting emotional.

You definitely recognize and respond to the sound of crying, but do you recognize my face? When you were just a puppy, you’d greet me at the door when I came home, tail wagging and paws clawing gently at my legs. As the years go on, I wonder if you remember me when I return from college, or if you ever even noticed I was gone in the first place.

2. Was it confusing/upsetting when we took you from your family?

When I was only six years old, we picked you up from a breeder in West Virginia. Your mom was a poodle and your dad was a schnauzer, and you had at least five siblings. My sister wanted to get one of the white poodle puppies, but my parents decided she was too high strung and would never stop barking.

After we got to know some of the other puppies, you walked right over to us, all calm and collected, sniffing our hands and dragging over a ratty chew toy. You didn’t seem particularly close to the other dogs, and your mom and dad weren’t even in the room when we picked you up, but sometimes I still worry that you have sad memories from that day. Do you miss the other puppies? Do you remember them at all?

3. Does it hurt to travel everywhere without shoes?

You’ve trekked through our neighborhood in all kinds of weather conditions, from braving the snow (which you grew to love eventually,) to stepping on hot concrete during the peak summer months. Yes, you have those little pads on the bottom of your paws for light protection, but even those must get hurt sometimes. I walk around barefoot a fair amount, and I still have almost no tolerance for pebbles or hot sidewalk under my feet.

Granted, I don’t have any paw pads for protection, but I’m pretty sure that even those wouldn’t eliminate my problems completely.

4. Do you recognize yourself in the mirror?

Sometimes when you’re walking through the hallway, I turn around to see how you’ll react to the mirror by the top of the stairs. Most of the time, you don’t acknowledge it, but there have been moments where you’ve stopped and stared at yourself, barking in discomfort when you realize what’s staring back at you. I could never quite figure out what that meant. Are you surprised when you’re able to catch glimpses of yourself? Or do you think you see another dog altogether?

As my dog gets older, I find myself reflecting on all the ways I wished I could communicate with her over the years, especially since my words were never reciprocated. Instead of anticipating the moment when I finally have to say goodbye, I try to focus on the hope that maybe, just maybe, she has taken taken in as much wisdom as she possibly can, and lived her little doggy life to the fullest.