The narrator was gushing about this wonder dog, and I’m like, Well, duh, brainiac, of course we understand people.

Not everything, mind you. And some of us are more attentive than others. Depends a lot on just how interesting your humans happen to be.

Certain words will really cause our ears to perk up. The classics: Treat. Walk. Frisbee. Bacon.

And don’t forget the swear words: Vet. Bath. Fireworks. Vacuum cleaner.

We always hear those.

clock versus moon

Julia and I wait by the front door while George says goodbye to Sara.

I think maybe the hardest thing for me about being domesticated—a “pet,” if you insist—is that I can’t control my own schedule. If I had my way, I’d hang out with Ivan and Ruby all day, every day.

Unfortunately, humans love their clocks.

Dogs, we use the sky to tell time, like any sensible creature. Sky says it’s dawn? Time to eat. It’s noon? Time to eat. It’s afternoon? Time to eat. It’s dusk? Time to eat. It’s midnight? Time to eat.

Point is, it’s always time to eat.

Dogs have a thing for the moon, too, like wolves and coyotes and our other relatives. No calendars for us.

Moon looks like a claw, moon looks like half a pancake, moon looks like a tennis ball. Moon looks like a claw again? A chunk of time has passed.

But humans, nope, that’s not enough. It’s not a chunk, it’s a month. It’s not just dawn, it’s 6:32 a.m. on a Thursday, and boy oh boy, we’d better hurry up and go to school or the office, or change the baby, but who gives a woof about feeding the poor, starving, sad-eyed, grumbling-tummied dog?

After a spell, I got used to the comings and goings of Julia and her mom and dad. But it keeps changing. Julia leaves early for school and is gone most of the day. She returns home excited and energized, good scents mostly. But every now and then she comes back smelling a little like me after a visit to the dog trainer—battle weary and ready to crawl under the covers.

Sara, who was pretty sick for a while, is feeling fine again, thank goodness, but she went back to work and she’s away all day, too. And George, who has a job at Ivan’s place, works five, sometimes six days a week.

That means it’s just me and the guinea pigs a lot of the time. I have a doggie door and an outside run, but it’s not the same as touring the neighborhood with your person. Peeing without a potential audience is like talking to yourself.

Sometimes I’m the teensiest bit jealous of Ivan and Ruby. They always have someone around.

Which is crazy, I know. I’m free and they’re not. But there it is.