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Aspen came to me as a foster dog. Aspen does not know the world has a soundtrack, but he is intimately tuned into its frequency.

Kristen Shae

Originally named Gus, I renamed him Aspen for the way he reminds me of the quaking aspen tree. Its leaves tremble in a silent breeze, sensing the world through vibration rather than sound. In Scottish folklore, the aspen is known as a sacred fairy tree, believed to listen to things humans cannot hear. For a Deaf Border Collie, the name felt fitting.

Aspen is not broken.

He is simply tuned to a frequency the rest of us often miss.

Kristen Shae

Aspen is a Double Merle. His striking white coat and pale blue eyes are the visible result of a preventable genetic pairing. When two merle-patterned dogs are bred together, there is a twenty-five percent chance their puppies will inherit two copies of the gene. This combination is commonly associated with deafness, vision impairment, and increased neurological risk.

Many Double Merle puppies are quietly culled at birth or deemed unsellable. Others are sold to families who do not understand the risks, only to enter rescue later when the realities become overwhelming.

Kristen Shae

Aspen found his way to Lucky Paws Dog Rescue Inc., an organisation that helps dogs often considered too difficult, too expensive, too rural, or just not worth saving. But Aspen is not difficult. He just needed a world willing to learn his language.

When Aspen first arrived, he was a dog on the edge. Imagine a brilliant, high-drive Border Collie brain with no reliable way to communicate its needs. He could not check in. He could not regulate. He could not ask for reassurance, and the frustration came out sideways.

Teaching him to connect felt a bit like standing in front of him internally yelling, “Look at moi. Look at moi.” Very Kath and Kim energy. Slowly, though, through touch-based and sign communication, he learned that a floor vibration or a hand signal could become a bridge instead of a barrier.

Kristen Shae

He became a master of the check-in, constantly seeking connection and reassurance. Once he understood that he was not alone in the quiet, his world softened, and the change in him was profound.

Aspen also lives with epilepsy. Before entering care, he experienced one to two seizures every single week. Working closely with our veterinary team, we identified triggers and adjusted his treatment. Recently, we reached a milestone that once felt impossible: six weeks with only one seizure.

For the first time, Aspen is not just surviving. He is thriving.

If you really want to understand Aspen, give him a squeaky toy.

He has no idea it makes a sound. He squeaks it because he loves the rhythmic vibration of the plastic against his jaw—a kind of silent concert he experiences through sensation rather than noise. It is joyful, endearing, and occasionally chaotic. When this happens at three in the morning and I am scrambling around in the dark trying to find a silent toy, I briefly understand the appeal of being deaf myself.

When he is not playing, Aspen is looking for water. A hose. A pool. A creek. He is happiest splashing—a joyful, ordinary dog experiencing the world at a different volume.

Lucky Paws Dog Rescue frequently works in remote and regional communities where access to desexing and veterinary care is limited. Through our Lucky Last Litter program, the rescue offers free desexing to the mothers of surrendered puppies, helping prevent future litters born into avoidable hardship.

Aspen should never have been born with these struggles. But now that he is here, he is quietly proving that different is not a deficit—and that listening does not always require sound.

Story submitted by Kristen Shae

This story was originally shared on The Animal Rescue Site. Share your very own rescue story here!