Give me just five minutes

Dogs are pack animals, and when I leave the room, my two usually follow me so's the pack can stay together. If they're snoozin' when I go off to another room, then they set off in search of me when they wake.

So it was that I was sitting in a ... um ... rather small and echoey chamber. I was alone in the house, so I left the door open. A dog trotted past the open door.

A moment later, the dog trotted past headed in the opposite direction.

I could hear a "tick tick tick" of toenails on tile as the second dog headed down the hallway. Teegan was less intent, more cautious in her approach than the first dog, Murphy, who seemed more inclined to just blast ahead in frantic search. Teegan stopped just before reaching the doorway.

I watched.

First her long, black snout appeared, then one eye. Then snout and eye disappeared.

Next, Teegan walked slowly past the door, glancing into the room fully on her way past. She stopped, turned, then passed the door again, stopping and poking her head fully into the room, gazing at me.

Meanwhile, Murphy finished her crazed search of the rest of the house, the yard, and beneath the sofa and came to join Teegan.

While Teegan was still assessing the situation, Murphy burst into the, uh, small echoey chamber, her entire body quivering in a paroxysm of dogmatic celebration at having found me. She bounded over, licked my feet, then bounded back to head-butt Teegan.

What I ask for, O God, is five minutes in the mind of a dog. I really want to know just what the fuck was going on in their heads as they executed these maneuvers. Because they are the most silly-assed damned creatures on this planet, God love 'em.