the PDF of her book - National Aphasia Association

82 Ruth Codier Resch Without Utterance:
Living by myself is a haven. In this home that I have
shaped for myself, I have silence, a lazy sparkling stream that
meanders softly through the banks of my brain. Solitude is also
here, allowing me to sit at the silence stream for reckless amounts of
time, careless of need for company. In my clinical work my driven
brain searches for words, rushes on at flood stage, heedless to stop.
Silence, solitude, and music eddy through my brain, handing over
the torrent to rest.
I am not lonely in this haven, but I am alone in this house. I want a nontalking
companion who can share both the house and the haven with me.
The white standard poodle is standing in the doorway of the cramped
office where I am sitting at the dog shelter. Her body hangs limp from her
spine, her head droops, eyes stare at the floor. My heart aches for her already.
She is not going to move into the room or toward me on her own.
I’ve not had a dog for decades. I felt daunted with the thought, until I
fell into the bottomless brown eyes of a white coiffed Samoyed standing in the
courtyard outside a dog show. His eyes mesmerized. His whole body vibrated
with alertness, intelligence. He took in everything around him! That’s the
kind of dog for me, I thought. The standard poodle is my choice, also smart
and loyal, but hair not fur, no shedding, hence no allergy for me.
I’ve arrived at the shelter after Poodle Rescue, the breed clearinghouse,
called this morning. “I have the perfect dog for you, but you have get her now!
She is regal, acts haughty, as if she knows she’s in the wrong place.”
I’ve hastily rearranged my schedule, and now I’m wedged against a
clutter of drab little desks, signing adoption papers for this poodle whose
life is unknown to me. She is brought to me. There is no happy tail-wagging,
oh-take-me-home-with-you attitude. She is clearly sad and, I think, uncertain
about what is next. We will have to warm to each other. Awkward is the note