The Way I See It, by Rufus

It occurs to me that there are very few literary canines out there . . . or perhaps they just don't have much to say. Maybe other canines aren't as observant as I, or get too easily distracted by cats, food, walks, and other mundane details of life. As the head canine of the M house, and having a delicate sensitivity to all goings-on here, I have become keenly aware of an air of excitement and general happiness. I know this particular brand of happiness to be of a not transitory nature, but more of a deep-seated joy rooted in eternal things, as I have been taken for but a few short walks of late, which can only mean that my loving mistress has been feeling rather ill. Still there is the indescribable joy in the house. Perhaps a clue to that joy is the inexplicable presence of large pumpkins in the living room. I see them with my eyes, and this morning I ventured to smell them. I have used both my eyes and ears to see my mistress printing out directions to far off and exotic lands, and I've heard her on the phone making secret plans--a lot of them. With my sense of touch (which is part of the nervous system wherein the periferal nerves take sensory input to the brain and spinal cord via the sensory nerve branches), I have felt my sweet little mistress giving me a full body massage in which approximately half my hair fell to the floor. I also used my ears and my eyes to percieve that my toys on the carpet were in mortal danger because of the giant, sucking, vacuum monster; so I took them all out of doors to safety.
The M house seems to me to be never static or in a state of homeostasis, but always coming alive with many and quite varied sorts of activity.