# A Dog's Perspective: Understanding the World Through Senses
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Chapter 1: A Walk with William
Let me begin by saying that I adore my dear William. Yet, I must express my concern over how oblivious humans can be—bless their hearts! William often roams about with a small, flat rectangle that captivates his attention for reasons beyond my comprehension. Astonishingly, he possesses not one but two of these devices—one for conversing with unseen individuals and the other for monitoring something he refers to as “stocks.”
In the midst of his distractions, he overlooks so much! It genuinely pains me to see it.
It all starts with my sense of smell. On rare occasions, when William manages to break free from his gadgets, he takes a deep breath of the lovely morning air. However, if we were to compare this to a film he often watches on that large screen he stares at nightly—something involving a ship called "Titanic"—he would undoubtedly be the person on board lamenting about poor cell reception, only to collide with an iceberg.
Illustration created by Jody Wright with the help of AI
That’s how my sense of smell differs from his. I can vividly see the iceberg ahead, and it is truly a sight to behold! A lamppost calls to me, enchanting like a siren to sailors lost at sea. Its aroma is intoxicating, filled with the memories of past admirers who delighted in its presence. I can almost taste the meals they enjoyed, imagining their origins.
The trees lining our path contribute their own fragrances. I catch whiffs of dew and remnants of the morning's rainfall. Squirrels dance around, teasing me (one even dropped a nut on my head—what a rogue!). I can smell the fresh grass that my neighbor just cut before the rain began.
Unfortunately, William seems to overlook the usefulness of his nose. He doesn’t even bother to sniff those two slim devices he clings to. He remains utterly unaware of all the wonders that are clamoring for his attention.
But it’s not entirely his fault; humans are simply equipped differently. They possess around 5 million olfactory receptor cells, while I boast approximately 250 million. In simpler terms, I have 40 times more ways to detect the delightful scents around us.
Moreover, my brain has a designated area for processing smells that is 40 times larger than his.
Section 1.1: The Sounds of Nature
Hearing is another peculiar aspect. It’s not that humans are incapable of hearing; it’s just that their focus lies elsewhere. I can hear birds singing nearby, the gentle flutter of butterfly wings as they navigate the air, and a squirrel chattering above me—likely expressing its grievances in a language I can’t quite understand. In the distance, my canine friend Mooch is barking with a noticeable irritation.
Illustration created by Jody Wright with the help of AI
William seems to notice the passing car, but mainly he’s captivated by the sounds emanating from those two flat devices. Is he losing his senses? After all, there’s no one around to converse with!
Perhaps he compensates for his lack of perception with his other senses? Not quite. Poor William!
Occasionally, he waxes poetic about a sunrise, but I can’t fathom what he finds so captivating about it. My vision encompasses a panoramic view of dancing squirrels while also catching glimpses of cats peering at me through their windows. At night, I navigate like a skilled ninja, seeing clearly while William stumbles around.
When we stroll down the alley as twilight transitions to night, he claims to see nothing unusual. Oh, the poor man! He completely misses the bustling superhighway of skunks and alley cats waiting for their nighttime escapades. He is blissfully unaware of the hidden dangers lurking in the dark, all while clutching his silly little rectangle (which I believe he calls an "iPhone"—though it clearly lacks eyes!). It’s as if he thinks this strange gadget will keep him safe. Thank goodness I’m around!
I feel my fur bristle slightly. I’m on high alert, ready to protect William!
Illustration created by Jody Wright with the help of AI
Section 1.2: The Comforts of Home
Once we return home, I settle onto the couch. Technically, I’m not supposed to be there, but William allows it when “she” isn’t around. I start to feel drowsy, but I resist sleep. After all, I’m his protector, and by now, you’ve realized that William is just as vulnerable as the rest of his kind.
He remains blissfully unaware of the dangers I help him avoid. As he gently pats my head, I appreciate his affection but begin contemplating my own paws. They feel every rock beneath us, the scorching heat of summer sidewalks, and the cool caress of grass blades. I can sense the playful splashes of puddles. Sensing textures and temperatures is a realm that William simply cannot access. I feel a twinge of pity for him—he can’t even perceive the subtle vibrations that pulse around us.
I let out a long, weary sigh. Does the poor man possess any useful senses?
I suppose taste might be his strong suit. He does have the upper hand here, as us four-legged beings don’t experience flavors in the same intricate manner. Sure, we can taste a bitter orange or a salty cracker, but it’s not nearly as refined as humans’.
Nevertheless, we can indulge in the delightful water from that porcelain bowl in the bathroom—yum! (What’s all the fuss about when we do this?!). It tastes perfectly fine to us. We can lap it up without the disgust that seems to plague William. What is it with humans and their taste preferences that leads them to label some flavors as “good” and others as “bad”? We don’t carry such judgments.
One evening, I overheard William chatting with the female human about “parallel universes.” Surprisingly, I grasp that concept quite well.
Even though William and I share our daily walks side by side, I’m acutely aware that he’s only scratching the surface of what I perceive.
When it comes to our senses, we truly inhabit parallel universes. Poor William.
I’m certain that all my fellow canine companions would join in a collective bark, expressing one sentiment in our language: “THANK GOODNESS!”
(Humans, as you see, are nearly devoid of sensory awareness. Bless their little hearts).
I relish the opportunity to view the world through another's eyes. This time, I enjoyed a brief glimpse into my dog's perspective, marveling at her extraordinary senses.
Would you be interested in exploring another narrative from a different "non-human" viewpoint?
Chapter 2: An All-Consuming Love
Chapter 3: A Hanky-Panky Adventure
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