I'm going through another identity crisis: this time it's about my humanity. Think I'm becoming part dog. Not because I like my belly scratched, or I beg for treats -- no, this is more of a mental thing. I'm seeing the world through the eyes of a dog.
It all started one day when my dog, DJ followed me to the bathroom. I turned around to wash my hands, and lo and behold -- there he sat, staring at me like I was the most captivating creature to grace the planet.
"Get a life, dog!" I yelled. "Don't you have better things to do than watch me tinkle?!"
DJ nodded his head from side to side. "No, I don't actually, cuz I'm a dog. Everything fascinates me, like that big hairy spider crawling up your leg."
I shrieked and slapped my legs wildly. Spiders freak me out.
"Chill bro. Just joking," DJ guffawed. "In case you haven't noticed, us dogs have a wicked sense of humor."
"Tell me about it. Remember when you gave Buddy a wedgie? Hilarious!" I said.
"That varmint was lucky I didn't eat him. I really had a craving for squirrel."
I still wasn't sure if I was hearing voices or DJ had mastered the art of human speech, but it didn't matter. The universe is a strange place. Do you really believe there are particles smaller than atoms? Have you ever seen a quark? Nothing makes sense to me anymore besides pizza and football on Sundays.
Meanwhile, DJ's eyes were still glued to me.
"Stop staring at me, Dog Breath, I'm not that interesting."
And then it hit me like a summons for unpaid parking tickets. Dogs live in the moment, soaking up every quantum bit of information like a canine sponge. It was as if DJ saw within me, down to the subatomic level, the quirks, the quarks, the cellular symphony that are the building blocks of my existence. Maybe I'm the one who's missing the point of it all?
I glanced outside the bathroom window, something I'd done a million times before without remembering a thing. A non-experience like filling up your car -- a sliver of life immediately forgotten, dust in the wind of Memory.
I studied the setting outside the window. Leafy elm tree branches twisting and turning into a colossal canopy. A cacophony of birds chirping, cooing and cawing, playing Nature's Overture composed by The Almighty Himself. Life, glorious life in all its inexplicable splendor. That's what a dog sees.
And then an epiphany: in with the real world, out with the virtual one. As the sages say, "He who surfeth the web, rotteth the brain, but those silly cat videos are hysterical."
Later that day I marched up the stairs of my house to my bedroom which has a large window overlooking the neighborhood. It was the perfect spot to observe the world. I sat there, imitating DJ's doggy-style, staring at the sky, the trees, barking at birds. Hours slipped by unnoticed; I had stumbled upon the essence of meditation itself.
Days turned into weeks, and my transformation continued. I observed every tiny detail with the same intensity as DJ. No longer satisfied with experiencing life virtually, I became a connoisseur of the present moment.
From that day on, I fully embraced my dog-like perspective. I cared little for social media or silly cat videos, Instead, I savored life's simplest pleasures—the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the warmth of the sun on my face, my neighbour, Hilly slipping on a banana peel.
And DJ, oh DJ, he continued watching me do nothing with an unwavering enthusiasm. Such dedication. We were kindred spirits, observing life down to the quantum level, one dull moment at a time. And I've never felt so alive
