I don’t understand hoomans. They say one thing like, “How about we go to the park today, buddy?” And then they walk past you like you’re not even there! Repeating words that don’t make much sense to a dog.

“Damn it! Damn it”. “Knew I shouldn’t have went out with John and Rick last night! Those fools don’t know when to put down a glass!” And then they rush around the room, searching for certain objects. It’s usually always a cellphone, or a wallet. Ooh, ooh! I remember a common one. “Where’s your ball, boy? Let’s go to the park instead!” Oh wait, that never happens.

Sometimes they look at you funny. “Would you happen to know where my car keys are, Ollie?” I respond with a bark. Hoping he’ll get the hint that I would much rather be outside, chasing a nice squirrel. “You’re no help.” My hooman says. He’s late to work, he has said many times this morning. I wonder what it’s like to be hooman and have to go to work so much. It sounds quite boring. Or maybe it’s just mine who has a boring job. Maybe I could have a job, a fun job, where I chase squirrels and get tummy rubs as my pay. That would be my personal Heaven.

Then he has everything he needs and the clock says 8:54 and he’s very upset about that. His shirt is poorly tucked into his shirt, he says he didn’t have time to put gel in his hair. When he’s about to leave, without his daily cup of coffee, he comes over to my bed, and rubs behind my ears. I quite like it when he rubs my ears. “See you soon, Ollie.” And then he leaves. And I become lonely. But he always leaves me food and water, and keeps the T.V. on so I can watch other dogs who share my hatred of squirrels.

People may think dogs have boring lives, but at least we don’t have to go to work.