Every morning, Bear begins his daily investigation of our backyard.  

I usually step outside and notice the weather. I admire the greenhouse, check on my plants, and enjoy the quiet start to the day. The yard looks exactly as it did the evening before.

Bear sees something entirely different.

Recently, I began listening to Alexandra Horowitz, a dog cognition researcher and author of Inside of a Dog: What Dogs See, Smell, and Know. One of the most fascinating things she discusses is that dogs experience the world very differently from humans. We live primarily through our eyes. Dogs live primarily through their noses. I know I’ve written about a dog’s powerful sense of smell before, but this book is giving me an additional perspective.

For Bear, the evidence is everywhere.

While I may see only grass, Bear discovers a detailed record of the night’s activities. Every step taken by a raccoon, every pause made by a fox, every curious kitten that wandered near the greenhouse leaves information behind in a language written entirely in scent.

Horowitz explains that dogs gather astonishing amounts of information through smell. What species was here? How long ago did it pass through? Was it healthy? Was it nervous? Was it searching for food? Information that is completely invisible to me may be obvious to Bear.

Suddenly, all those moments when he stops to investigate a patch of grass make much more sense.

He is not wasting time.

He is reading.

Imagine walking outside and finding a newspaper that contains every event that happened while you were asleep. Imagine being able to identify every visitor, track where they traveled, and learn details about them simply by examining the air around you.

That is much closer to the world Bear experiences every day.

Since losing Teddy, I have not been as diligent about checking the memory cards in my trail cameras. There was a time when I eagerly reviewed every photograph to discover who had visited during the night. These days, life sometimes gets in the way, and the cameras go unchecked.

Bear, however, never misses a morning report.

Long before I ever review a photograph, Bear has already conducted his investigation. His nose has examined the evidence. His conclusions have been reached. He knows someone visited.

Perhaps that is one of the reasons I find dog cognition studies so fascinating. The more researchers learn about dogs, the more I realize that our companions are experiencing a rich and complex world that most humans will never fully understand.

I see flowers, fences, and a greenhouse.

One of the greatest gifts our dogs give us is the opportunity to see familiar things in a new way.

Before learning about Alexandra Horowitz’s work, I thought Bear’s constant sniffing was simply part of being a dog. Now I understand that it is much more than that. He is exploring, learning, gathering information, and experiencing a world that exists all around us but remains hidden from human senses.