(no subject)

You know, sometimes I wonder what my dog thinks of me.

He knows I'm not a dog. Clearly, I'm a different shape, and I don't smell anything like a dog, either. Not to mention that he gets all excited whenever he spots a member of his species.

It's not just that, though.

I'm much bigger than he is.

I can throw things.

I can open doors. Even the ones that are properly latched and can't be just pushed.

I can make light appear or disappear at will.

I can make the garage door (which is really big) go up and down. By itself.

I can make the car go wherever I want.

I am in control of a seemingly endless supply of food.

I must be a God.

And then...

I throw the stick for him a few times. Then he decides he's done.
"Okay, good boy! You found the stick! Now bring it back. Come on."
*meanders back, stickless, then looks at me expectantly* You want it? You get it.

4:00pm rolls around. I'm on the couch.
*poke, poke* Hey, get up! It's dinner time!

We're on a walk. He's stopped to sniff a bush. After a while, I start to get impatient.
"Come on, we don't have all day. Let's get going!" *tug, tug*
*sniff, sniff, sniff* I'm not going anywhere just yet. I'm reading my p-mail. This is really interesting... Oh, hey. What's it say over here? *sniff, sniff*

*sigh* So much for that theory.