I have a boy who can't speak, and a dog that can't bark. Snoopy came from a shelter, who rescued him when he was abandoned at their gate, and we have no idea of any of his past life. But it must have involved some trauma, because if you even wag a finger at him for the slightest infraction, he cowers and hides in the nearest convenient spot. And Neel can't speak, and is not really the most adept with his fingers, but he screws his face up and somehow manages to attach the leash to take his doggie for a walk. And then they are off downstairs, Neel unsteadily swaying as Snoopy strains at the leash, and Snoopy trying to take in all the alluring scents before Neel drags him away. And you wonder how difficult it is for both, all that fine motor work for a kid with an incomplete cerebellum, and all that tugging and inexpert pulling for a doggy who can't even bark in protest. But every day, Neel rushes to get ready for his walk, grunting away in excitement, and Snoopy goes up to him and stands obediently while Neel fumbles on his harness. And then off they go, imperfect and yet somehow so complete