Shortly after my now ex-partner and I got married, our first baby was a golden retriever puppy named Bailey. He has been gone for nine years, but I still ache for his goofy energy and sweet personality. Within a few weeks of having him, Bailey’s voice arrived, which we used to talk for him and through him to each other.
The voice captured every bit of his character. Our friends knew and used the voice, and it would have been hard to convince me that Bailey Boy wasn’t thinking the things “he” was saying. Sometimes he would throw shade, offer passive-aggressive comments, and play devil’s advocate. He could say the things I and others may not have been able to get away with without offending anyone. You couldn’t get mad at a humorous voice of reason like Bailey.
And yes, I am aware that my dog didn’t actually talk. Or at least I’m mostly aware.
But Bailey wasn’t just a dog; he was a member of our little family. Bailey got me out of the house for walks and snuggled with me during my darkest days of depression. He tested my patience with his antics, made me laugh, and then broke my heart when his body gave in to arthritis and brittle bones.
He welcomed our first child into the home and slept by her crib in a way that told us any feelings of jealousy were pale in comparison to his instinct to love and protect her. Through his voice that would fill our house for eight short years, he said, “Oh! I’m gonna give her so many kisses!” And he made good on his promise until right before her first birthday, when we had to put him down.
Once the pain lessened a bit, his voice lived after his death. He started to talk to us from the afterlife, and his voice came back in full in our second golden retriever. The voice portrays a different personality, in part because of our guy’s different demeanor than Bailey’s and also because the mood of the house has been changed. There is a bit more cynicism in a dog who lives with three kids and parents who are divorced but living and co-parenting under the same roof.
“They make it work,” Yolo says. Yes — the voice of our first and dead dog was resurrected in our second dog, whose name stands for You Only Live Once. The joke is on someone.
My now (long-distance) partner also has a dog, Gizmo, but his voice is much different than Yolo’s. That hasn’t stopped them from having some pretty engaging conversations through FaceTime. It’s also fun to watch my partner look and smile at her dog as if he really is speaking while I do his voice 1,400 miles away on a video chat. But it’s in this forgetfulness that our pets really can’t talk that proves we put as much attachment on them as we do the people we love.
"My cat Gypsy has a crabby old lady voice. She can be a sweet old lady but turn on a dime if she’s not getting her way. There’s a certain way her meow changes to a scratchy, loud, one meow yell which I always translate as 'GET OFF MY LAWN!'
And of course I talk to her all the time and she talks back. I don’t talk out loud in her voice but I talk out loud one-way and answer her, ask her questions, and she answers me. She tells me about her day and gossips. There’s a lot of me saying, 'Are you serious girl?' Or 'Then what did he do?'" – Patti, Texas
"[Our dog] Jax totally has a voice. We imagine him to be an older gentleman who probably smokes a pipe. Kind of like the most interesting man in the world commercials." – Whitney, Illinois
"My dog Lucy did. She was kind and wise, gentle and an old soul; she spoke like Charlotte in Charlotte's Web." – David, Michigan
"Our cat Ingrid has a Norwegian accent and makes the two younger kittens do 5 a.m. calisthenics saying things like 'paws on the line!!! Tail up!!!' We have so much fun with scenarios and voices!" — Laura, Massachusetts
"My cat sounds like Jennifer Tilly and swears like a trucker." — Love, Mississippi
"[Our cat] talks in a very panicked and confused voice. When she runs after things or just around in general, we have her voice as a high pitched 'ahhhhhhhhhhhh!' She is also known as the Trash Panda and likes to eat things off the counter and takes massive chunks out of a fresh loaf of bread — when it’s still in the plastic. We also refer to her as a WAP when she gets sprayed with the squirt gun.” — Jamie, Vermont
"We narrate our dog's thoughts all the time. His voice is a surfer/stoner dude. Kind of dopey. He's the sweetest dog so it's especially fun when we narrate him saying passive-aggressive stuff to us." — Gretchen, South Carolina
"[Our dog is] very affectionate but also a princess who wants the attention on her at all times so we make lots of jokes at her expense about 'how h-ckin absolute dare' we give love or attention to each other instead of her." — Valerie, South Carolina
"We actually have a swear jar for our dog, who has the worst potty mouth!" — Kristine, Ontario
"[Our dog] Reba doesn't need us to do a voice for her — pretty sure everyone knows what she is thinking. She is the side-eye queen." — Nadine, Vermont
"OK I don't have pets but I do this with plants." — Mandi, British Columbia
The infatuation we have with our fur (or plant) babies runs as deep and wide as any member of our family, and they make our lives more entertaining without technically saying anything at all.
