Oh, Bless Their Human Hearts
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By Sweetie
Herald K9 Correspondent
I have been studying humans for some time now. I live with them, so I have had plenty of opportunity. My conclusion is that humans are intelligent, capable creatures who can build houses, drive cars, operate computers and arrange for food to be delivered without ever leaving the couch. And yet they can spend ten minutes looking for something that is directly in front of them.
Bless their hearts.
My human is particularly interesting to observe. She is always doing something. She makes lists. She writes things on calendars. She carries things from one room to another. She says, “I need to remember that,” which, from what I have observed, is usually the first step toward forgetting it entirely.
Then there is the phone. My human can be carrying hers around all morning and then suddenly announce, “Where’s my phone?” Sometimes it is on the table. Sometimes it is at the bottom of her her purse. Sometimes it is in her hand. I do not point this out. There is only so much humiliation a person should have to endure in her own home.
Snack Dad has his own peculiarities. I call him Snack Dad for a reason. Of the two, he has the better understanding of one of life’s fundamental truths: food should be shared. Still, he occasionally sits down with a snack and acts surprised when I appear. I find this baffling. We have lived together for years. There is an established procedure. Snack Dad has food. I report for duty. Snack Dad shares. This is not a new policy.
My human also has a strange relationship with the refrigerator. She will open it, look inside, close it and walk away. Five minutes later she returns and does it again. Nothing has changed. I know because I attended both inspections. Sometimes she stands there and says, “What am I going to make for dinner?” This is especially puzzling because she is the one who made the grocery list, went to the store, bought the groceries and personally put every one of them in the refrigerator. At some point, there must have been a plan. I do not know what happened to it.
Then there is the process of leaving the house. Dogs simply go out the door. Humans turn departure into a multi-step operation. My human gathers her purse, phone, keys and whatever else she has decided she needs. Then she announces that she is leaving. For the record, this does not mean she is leaving. There may still be several trips through the house, a search for something she was just holding and at least one pause at the door while she tries to remember what she has forgotten. Occasionally she makes it all the way to the car before remembering. I no longer get emotionally involved.
Humans also worry about tomorrow. And next week. And occasionally next month. My human can be sitting comfortably in our house on Monday worrying about something she needs to do Thursday. She writes it on a calendar, puts it on a list and then continues thinking about it anyway. Why have the list? I prefer a simpler system. Is everyone home? Is there food? Is my favorite spot available? Good. Thursday can take care of itself.
For all their shortcomings, humans remain remarkably optimistic. Every day my human straightens pillows I fully intend to rearrange later. She folds blankets as though I have not already claimed them. She vacuums the floors knowing everyone will continue walking across them and that one of us will be leaving a fresh trail of fur behind.
And Snack Dad, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, continues to sit down with food believing it belongs entirely to him. You have to admire that kind of faith.
Still, I love my humans, even though they require patience and supervision. And, in my experience, should never be left entirely to their own devices. Fortunately for them I keep an eye on things around the clock. It is a responsibility I take very seriously.
Bless their hearts.
