I See Dog People

A foot of snow? No problem, Chandler can sniff out a morsel, dig through that snow, and scarf it down in seconds.

Tennis ball went under the sofa two months ago? Scout gets bored and knows exactly where a fun toy is... under the sofa!

I'm in the kitchen quietly trying to find a snack. I am seriously quiet, stealthy, I snuck in there while both dogs were sleeping. I find that Mark has left an apple fritter in the donut box so I slide it out gingerly. Not a sound did I make, but one crumb drops to the floor. A teeny, tiny crumb. Before I can even bend over to pick it up, Scout is there. She heard the crumb hit the floor.

Both dogs are sleeping on the floor in the hallway. Suddenly, in unison, their heads pop up, their ears go to attention. It's the mailman. No, he's not downstairs putting mail in the hallway. He's across the street in his truck, just sitting, sorting some mail. The dogs know he's there and start barking. Every goddamned day they do this.

I am constantly in awe of my dogs and their senses. Smell, sight, hearing, they have it all. I'm pretty sure that Chandler and Scout think I am terribly handicapped. They wonder, what's wrong with that guy? I can't see what they see, I can't smell what they smell, and I never hear what they are hearing. They probably look on me with pity and are only loyal to me because they feel sorry for the feeble human. Honestly, the only thing I have that they don't have are fingers. I have the ability to open cabinets, to open the door and let them out, and the ability to attach the leash and take them for a walk. They probably wonder why I waste such a talent bagging their poop.