There’s an Australian Labradoodle snoring next to me right now, paws in the air like she just don’t care, belly fully exposed, tail wagging mid-dream. Her name is Mabel, and while she’s never written a UX case study or participated in a usability sprint, she might be the most intuitive designer I know.
Mabel came into our lives with eyelashes that could touch the stars and eyes that see straight through your soul... and directly into your snack stash. Ask me how many jackets I own with chewed-through pockets. Some say Australian Labradoodles are Frankenstein dogs: part poodle, part lab, a dash of cocker spaniel, and a generous scoop of wishful thinking. But when bred responsibly, what you get is something pretty extraordinary: a dog engineered for connection, with just enough chaos to keep things interesting.
Originally created as allergy-friendly service dogs, ALDs were bred to assist and intuit. And while Mabel flunked out of formal service training (the “no counter-surfing” clause was a non-starter and some contracts are simply too cruel), she kept the instincts. Her title may be unofficial, but she’s got the heart of a helper and the nose of a legend.
Take last week. Mid-walk, she stopped, sniffed the air, gave me a look of unshakable certainty, and pivoted. I thought, "This should be interesting... bunny? squirrel?" So off I followed, curious. She led me clear across the park, no visual cues and no logic, straight to a bench. And there, like a seasoned forager’s reward, sat an open McDonald’s wrapper, a half-eaten breakfast sandwich, and a mostly full orange juice (which I, to her dismay, did not let her eat). This wasn’t a happy accident. It was a targeted mission. A tactical nose-led treasure hunt.
And it got me thinking: some dogs are trained to detect cancer, diabetes, narcotics. That’s not hype. It’s science. Their noses decode scent profiles our most sophisticated machines can’t. Mabel? She may skew more Golden Arches than gold standard, but still, you can't deny there’s something there. A kind of ambient genius wrapped in fluff.
That’s what UX should be. Quietly brilliant. Unexpectedly delightful. Deeply in tune. Mabel doesn’t need user personas because the girl reads the room. She doesn’t test flows; she follows her own, with unshakable confidence. And when she finally flops down on you like a living, breathing weighted blanket—full body, full trust—everything wrong with the day just sort of dissolves. Whoever gets Mabel at night is the winner. No contest. But the bliss is fragile. Because when she inevitably overheats and relocates to lie belly-down across the nearest A/C vent like a heat-drunk bachelorette in downtown Nashville, her bride sash, cowgirl hat, and a sugary cocktail in hand, woo-hooing her way down Broadway...we're left abandoned, bitter, and shivering in the shadow of what once was.
She may never design an app or lead a stakeholder meeting (though honestly, I’d trust her instincts over most PMs), but she reminds me: great UX isn’t just functional. It’s felt. It’s the unspoken, perfectly timed nudge toward what you didn’t even know you needed.
Mabel isn’t a perfect dog, or so I’m told. But she makes everything feel softer, calmer, and a little more human. Whether she’s guiding you to mystery meat or anchoring your chest like a cozy boulder of love, she designs experiences that linger.
If UX had a tail, she’d be wagging it belly up, unapologetically present, radiating warmth... until she peels off like a bachelorette too deep into her woo-hoos, chasing the sweet relief of an A/C vent and leaving the rest of us wondering where the party went.
