There are people all over the world who like to write fan

Hear now the lighthearted yet profound words of Rebecca Hall, who observed with gentle humor: “There are people all over the world who like to write fan letters in the voice of their pet: ‘Hello, my name is Fifi and I’m a labrador and I think you’re great. Paw paw!’” Though her words bring laughter, within them lies a reflection on the depth of human affection, the bonds we forge with animals, and the way love seeks always for expression—even if it must borrow another’s voice.

The ancients knew that love often transcends the barriers of speech. In their myths, animals were often granted tongues, speaking truths that humans could not. The horse of Achilles, Xanthus, warned him of his fate; the serpent in Eden spoke temptation; even the ravens of Odin whispered knowledge into the ears of the god. Hall’s observation of fan letters written in the voice of pets is but a modern echo of this timeless longing: to imagine the inner thoughts of creatures who share our lives, and to give voice to the love we feel they return.

To write in the voice of a labrador named Fifi, declaring joy and affection, may appear whimsical, but it reveals a deep tenderness. For such letters are not mockery—they are the human heart translating loyalty, joy, and devotion into words. The animal may not write, but its life speaks in gestures: the wag of a tail, the purr, the nuzzle. By taking up the pen in its stead, humans attempt to capture that wordless language, to embody devotion in ink.

Consider the tale of Greyfriars Bobby, the little dog of Edinburgh who kept watch at his master’s grave for fourteen years. He spoke no words, yet his actions were louder than speech. Imagine, had someone written in his “voice,” what letters of steadfast love might have been composed. Hall’s jesting “paw paw!” is lighthearted, but behind it lies a truth: we long to channel the loyalty of our pets into forms others can understand.

Her words also remind us of the innocence and playfulness needed in human life. In a world often heavy with toil and sorrow, the ability to laugh, to write a fan letter in the voice of a pet, is not folly but medicine. It is a small rebellion against cynicism, a way of preserving childlike joy in the face of adult seriousness. To imagine a dog praising an artist or an actor is not meaningless—it is a ritual of delight, showing that affection can transcend species and bring laughter even to strangers.

The lesson is clear: do not despise the playful ways of expressing love. Whether through humor, through stories, or through imagined voices, these expressions are threads in the great fabric of human connection. If people choose to honor their pets’ love by turning it into words for another, it is because they understand that love, in whatever form, is a gift to be shared.

Practically, this means allowing ourselves the freedom to be silly, to delight in whimsy, to celebrate joy wherever it may be found. Write letters, tell stories, invent voices—not for mockery, but for the nourishment of the heart. For the world is starved not of knowledge, but of kindness, and sometimes even a make-believe “paw paw!” can brighten the day of another soul.

So let these words endure: love finds its voice, even if it must borrow another’s. The playful letters of pets remind us that devotion needs no logic, only sincerity. Let us live, then, with both wisdom and humor, expressing our affection boldly, joyfully, and without fear of seeming foolish. For in such acts lies the true heart of humanity.