Alice doesn’t hear us. Not because she’s stubborn or rude. She is deaf. Completely. Sometimes that’s a disadvantage, and sometimes it’s a quiet gift. In a shelter where barking and noise can suddenly take over, Alice relies only on what she can see. Without sound, she doesn’t know when tension is building or what’s happening elsewhere. She understands only what unfolds right in front of her, and that makes her a little vulnerable. On the other hand, it also gives her a certain calm. She isn’t affected by voices that don’t concern her, she doesn’t get stressed by noise, her energy doesn’t spike because something happened somewhere else, and she doesn’t panic easily.
Alice is full of joy. She’s sweet and affectionate, and when she’s happy, it’s immediately obvious. Her face lights up, her eyes shine, and she looks at you in a way that makes you think you’d happily do her every favor. She’s gentle by nature, enjoys walks, enjoys being around people, and likes to be involved. Her favorite moment is when we take her to the office. Even then, she doesn’t become overexcited. Instead, she’s a little awkward, and that’s exactly what makes her even more endearing.
Alice has a natural kindness, along with a touch of insecurity. Being deaf plays a role in that, which is why visual contact is so important to her. It helps her to see you nearby, to follow your movements, to know that you’re there. When she has that reassurance, she relaxes and trusts. If she hesitates, gentle guidance helps her move past her fear.
Her appearance is entirely unique. Her face feels almost like an abstract piece of art, while her big ears, purely decorative, make the whole picture even more charming. One of her eyes appears more “outlined” than the other, giving the impression that it’s smaller, though it isn’t. Alice seems to look at the world the way Alice in Wonderland does, as if everything she sees holds a bit of magic. And with her, that feeling is always visible.
