The tiny dog slurped and gnashed at the squirming, severed arm of the giant, murderous, plush doll mail carrier, left behind after its battle with a woman and two dolphins in a huge cosmic library, just to reiterate where we're at here. And as his body took in the disgusting contaminants saturating the gruesome object, his little doggly brain did an admittedly impressive thing. A normal grey-zone dog can inhale a few particles of another creature's dried urea and instantaneously understand far more about that creature than you ever could through visual information alone, but even this pales in comparison to what an even vestigially branchinated canid can accomplish. Had the data been translated directly to print - and fine print, at that, not the baby stuff - the web of raw concept intertwined with the tapestry of flavors he now sucked from the fibrous limb of a fallen monster could have filled one of the library's skyscraper-like bookcases and then some.
How much the dog understood of that data was rather another matter, but the memories of anything that overlapped with his own conceptual parameters were as fresh and clear as any knowledge conceivably could be in his spongy, dripping clot of a mind. With every sopping, squelching bite, his own memories pulsed with the experiences of every vaguely dog-adjacent entity that had ever crossed paths with the dead monster, its zonal domain and its associated conceptobeings. The thoughts were brief and abstract, but you could count on your beloved and dutiful Narration to filter whatever might be salvaged into something you can approximately fathom. The result was a bit weird, but, it will have to do:
