If you were forced to give up one sense, but gain super-sensitivity in another, which senses would you choose?

5822_10151713749396202_1620561694_nAbove is a picture of my baby girl Scout. She’s a chocolate point Siamese. She is cross-eyed which is incredibly common in Siamese cats (but has over the years has been increasingly bred out). She weaves and bobs her head in snake-like fashion to focus on objects. And more than most kitties she pounces on shadows because she’s honestly not sure if they’re there or not. But nature has given her super sensitive hearing and extra long whiskers to make up for her slightly lacking vision. Her whiskers reach out so far it’s almost impossible to pet her on the head or neck region without brushing against them. Her hearing is so sensitive that she is not a fan of when we listen to music, watch sports, or generally any noise over like volume level 2. Ever since we’ve gotten our new kitten, Indie, we’ve had the joy of watching our cross-eyed baby interact with a much more active animal. All kitties like to pounce of from behind things. But Indie has learned it’s much easier to sneak up on her big sister, especially if she can keep the bell on her collar from making any noise. There are times when because Indie (a dark little Tortie–most of her orange and white is on her belly) is crouched in a shadow Scout can walk right past her…which of course leads Indie to attack from behind.

I always used to think it would be okay if I was forced to give up my sight, because my hearing and sense of touch would probably work differently to compensate. As a child I had numerous ear infections and I’ve also had my ear drum rupture. So my hearing is muted in my left ear and I know when it’s a loud place I tend to turn my head to hear better. But honestly I’ve always had all of my senses working and I can say I’m privileged enough to not want to lose any of them. And it’s hard to imagine, even for me, what it would be like to not have one sense–even if there were others that expanded to compensate. I mean–to not be able to touch and recognize something hot or something cold. The soft heat of laundry straight from the dryer–I can’t imagine not knowing what that feels like. Or what it smells like. I mean the scent of fresh laundry or hot chocolate. The smell of fall or spring. Or not being able to see the joy on someone’s face or hear the laughter. Each and every sense blends together to give you that picture of your surroundings, that picture of the people, in your life.