“Are you hungry? You look hungry.”

But do I know that? What do I know about you? In spite of sharing most of every day together for all the best years of your life, I am not certain I know you. We occupy the same space but sense it differently. You live in the world of smells and sounds. I live in the visual world where smell and sound are accessories. My eyes are on the top of my upright body so I can see further and better.  Your nose is close to the ground where all the best aromas linger. I can see things you may never notice. You can smell and hear things that I will never know.

Do I even know that you like me? Perhaps you are just using me for free food, shelter and medical care; deceit is a friend of survival. You are my prisoner after all.

I know that you know, that I know, that you can remember something. I know that you know that I know that you remember the precise location of that half-chewed chop bone at the end of Roberts Street.

I know that you know that I know where the rubber duck is hidden in the top of the wardrobe. I know that you think with persistent pleading I will surrender and retrieve it for you.

I also know that sometimes you know that I don’t know.

You bark and bring me back to your world of actions, not thoughts. You look me in the eye and look at the food on the bench and then look me in the eye again and then look at the food again and then I understand. I know what you want. You have trained me well.

(This piece was inspired by the wonderful book “Inside of a Dog – What Dogs see, smell and know” by Alexandra Horowitz)