One of my favorite books of all time is The Art of Racing in the Rain, by Garth Stein. The main character and narrator of the story is a dog named Enzo, who tells the story of his life with his person, Denny. Enzo thinks Denny is amazing.
I think that any dog who is treated well thinks their person is amazing. Gosh, they worship us, don’t they? Not only that, but I believe that they sometimes think we are magicians and demi gods as well.
Partly it’s the thumbs. Those of us who have them can open doors, and dog food cans, and throw the yellow ball. But the rest of the ‘amazing” borders on magic.
I know that my dogs think that I can produce dog treats and rawhides out of thin air. Even when I show them the empty box or bag, they still look at me with bright expectant eyes. “Now make the treats appear, mom!”
They also believe that I can speak dog, and that I understand what every bark, whine, whimper and buff they utter means.
I think they must also believe that I am a contortionist. That’s the only explanation for the little bit of space they expect me to sleep in after they have arranged themselves on my bed.
And I know that they think my lifemate and I can survive without eating. That’s why they beg us for every morsel of food, from the time we begin preparing it, until there isn’t a single crumb left.
One night this past winter I took my dogs out for their last call; it was cold outside, but dry. When we woke up in the morning, however, the ground was blanketed with 8 inches of snow that had fallen while we slept. I’ll never forget the look on my four little dogs’ faces when I took them out that morning. They stepped out onto the porch, looked at the snow (which was deeper than they were tall) and then, as one, they all turned to look at me. Their faces asked the clear question: “Why did you do this, mom?”
Thus was I elevated to Demi God.
Never underestimate your dog’s estimation of you.