How Stella Learned to Talk: The Groundbreaking Story of the World's First Talking Dog

by Christina Hunger

Focused language stimulation involves repeating target words that are relevant to what is happening at the time. In a single interaction or activity, a word should be repeated at least five times before moving on.

Anytime we walked by Stella’s dishes and saw her drinking water, we would say “water” and push her button on the way out of the room. Jake would chase Stella around the dining room table, then would stop to model “play” before he started another lap. I would hold Stella’s toy basket and push “play” every time I pulled a new toy out of it.

TAKEAWAYS FOR TEACHING YOUR DOG Narrate what’s happening in your dog’s environment by saying single words and short phrases. Talk about what your dog is doing, what you’re doing, or what is about to happen. Be repetitive. Aim to say a word at least five to ten times before moving on to something else. The more often your dog hears a word in the right context, the faster she’ll be able to learn its meaning. Program words into your device that are frequently occurring, and relevant to your dog’s daily life. Remember, a more general word like play will be more valuable and frequently occurring than the name of one specific toy. Turn your dog’s typical activities into teachable moments. Before you take your dog outside, go for a walk, feed her, play with her, replenish water, or give her belly rubs, take a moment to say what you are doing multiple times. Use verbal speech and your dog’s buttons to talk to your dog. Every time you use your dog’s button to say a word, you are modeling appropriate use of it for her. Teach more than one word to start. Greater exposure leads to greater learning. Be on the lookout for small changes in how your dog interacts with the buttons, responds to you, and communicates. Your dog probably will not learn to functionally communicate with AAC overnight. That is completely normal for both humans and canines. Look for small victories along the way, such as your dog looking at the buttons, watching you use the buttons, standing next to the buttons, o...

I chose to add six buttons with core words and a phrase for Stella: come, no, love you, help, bye, eat.

We made it through about two minutes of our meal when we heard, “Walk walk walk walk.” Stella poked her head around the corner, checking to see our reaction to her request.

Jake grabbed my hand, turned me toward him, and kissed me. “Love you,” Stella said. We looked down to see Stella squeezing right in between our legs. She wagged her tail, looked up at us, with her ears turned straight back against her head.

Stella stood in the back seat, watching out the window as Brissa disappeared into the building. When we returned to our apartment, Stella walked straight to the couch Brissa slept on. She sniffed the blankets and pillows she used, then said “bye,” and looked up directly into my eyes.

When we finished drying Stella off, she marched inside straight to her dishes. She slammed her paw to say “eat.” She turned the corner, walked to her row of buttons in the living room, and said “no.” Stella looked up to us. She maintained eye contact, whined, and stomped her right paw. We did not feed Stella before we left for the beach that night. And Stella created her first two-word combination to tell us that she had not eaten dinner.

A couple of nights later, I woke up to Stella saying “beach, beach” at 3:00 in the morning.

When Daylight Saving time arrived in November, we turned our clocks back one hour. Stella showed us, once again, how routine based she is. Between 3:30 and 4:00 P.M., she repeatedly requested to “eat.” This would have been 4:30 or 5:00 before the time change, which was completely normal for her. But I did not want to feed her dinner so early and throw her off for our workweek ahead. I gave Stella a couple of treats to tide her over but kept saying, “No eat now, eat later.” Fifteen minutes passed. “Help eat,” Stella said then barked. “I know, Stella, good waiting. Eat later.” Stella sighed. She stood still for about ten seconds. “Love you, no,” she said. Stella walked away, into the bedroom.

On Monday, the worst day of my sickness, Stella did not request anything from me. She did not ask to go outside or to play, she did not ask me to take her for a walk or go to the beach. She knew I was not going anywhere. She only hopped off the bed once in the middle of the day. I listened while she walked into the living room. “Love you,” she said. Stella ran back into the bedroom and returned to my side.

The next morning, Stella hopped off the bed and trotted to the living room. “Outside,” she said. Jake and I were still tucked in bed, not quite ready to get up yet. “Stella come,” Jake said. It was quiet for about ten seconds. “Stella bye,” she said. Jake and I laughed. “Christina can you take her?” he asked. It was quiet again. “Jake,” Stella said. I burst into laughter. “She called you out! You have to go take her outside.”