So, I had to write a short descriptive paper and embed some underlying meaning in it. This is what I came up with. I would appreciate comments or suggestions. What did you think?

Heads up, it might come across as confusing or just hard to follow... this type of writing/reading isn't for everyone. If anything, just mention that.. really I am looking for feedback... Hopefully, it wasn't a waste of your time. Enjoy.

What Eye See
The antiquities of life, the capacious details to the minute gesture, what can anyone truly do? Looking upon the effects of choices and actions, nobody can do everything, some times everybody does nothing, but always somebody can do something. Honestly think about it; I can’t change anything, so why should they? Eventually I get noticed, but that is not enough. I am always heard; I am never heard. This is my life, life through the eyes of a developmentally disabled pooch.

One week, one day, one hour, one minute, or one moment frozen in time; all of these are the same to me. Full of energy, on the edge of death, famished or parched, full to the brim, sleepy, or wide awake, one thing always remains the same; I notice. I notice the world around me and decisions that the people around me make.

A bright and glorious sun immerses the mid morning moment. Rays of radiating warmth pierce the day as the sun climbs above the tops of green mountains on the distant horizon. Shafts of sunbeams streak through the thin leftover haze of fog on the distant mountains from the previous night. The gentle heat tickles my nose, waking me up like a familiar friend. Similarly with most naps, I sleep on my belly, head resting on my politely crossed front legs. There is no need to rush; I gladly lay on the edge of the deck and get ready for the day. The wooden deck is great. In the middle of a hot summer day, it gets warm, not hot, but warm; warm enough to lay on and get that reverberating goose-bump feeling to twitter through my body. At night, the deck stays slightly warm because of its previous appointment with the great sun. This makes for a magnificent place to sit, rest, think, daydream, or whatever else I am inclined to do. For the time being, I listen, watch, and wait.

The surrounding wood teams with life and carries on not knowing that it is being observed. Small birds flutter through the underbrush, chirping gaily to make beautiful music of the morning. A few larger birds soar dominantly above the treetops while periodically cooing and cawing to all beneath them. Two brown squirrels erratically play tag around the midsection of a great red fir; the one chasing ejaculates his agitation to being the slower squirrel. After tiring, they decide to change what game they play; the two youngsters decide to antagonize the deer mingling around the forest by throwing small pinecones at their brown-tan heads. A young doe grazes with her fawn as they gradually wander through the underbrush, grass, and game trails. They grind their teeth slowly and melodically on the grass and buds of clover. The buck, of course, is off in the distance valiantly watching his people; I can’t see him, but my nose knows he is there. Virtually unseen and unheard, caravans of ants march in and out of their tunnels, foraging for food and protecting their home. From the superior birds up high to the compact bugs down low, the wood does not sleep. Moving from flower to flower, a brilliant butterfly glides about its business. Ah! The tranquility of this immaculate creature in this moment is unsurpassed. Silken wings, lined with gold, gracefully propel the butterfly upward where it pauses in mid air to show off its glory. The slow beat of the butterfly’s wings glide it over to a nearby flower. It proceeds to caress the smooth edges of the scarlet rose and kiss its tender yet ever so sweet lips.

Too often a time, the casual aspects of the day are missed and true appreciation for a day, minute, or moment is lost. It is imperative to absorb the beauty of a moment in any scene. Truly blessed am I to be allowed a scene as this. In all honesty, watching the sun go up, around, and down is not enough for me. As it s with all that lives, day by day, I get closer to death. There is nothing that can be done to stop this. Every second pas is another second closer to oblivion.

The door behind me opens and someone comes out to witness the ever occurring phenomenon of the world going around. They look around and take a deep breath to inhale what they can of the morning. A slight pause, they reach down and gently pat me on the head. Knowing I am going to die someday and being surrounded by all of this untainted beauty, the only thing that could possibly give my life meaning would be to have someone to appreciate it with. A lover, a friend, or a complete stranger, the small gesture of recognition completes the moment and lets me know I not alone. Now I am content and ready for yet another day.