robbie sat in the corner like the good dog he was and watched the four humans eat.
he knew enough not to approach the table unless there was a good chance one of the humans would give him a scrap.
and his chances tonight did not look good because they were having hamburger helper - again!
the humans thought he liked hamburger helper but he did not.
the humans thought they knew a lot of things but they did not.
humans were incredibly stupid.
they did not know the directions of the stars, and could hardly tell one star from another.
they did not suspect the true size of the universe, or the directions it was traveling in, or even that it had directions it was traveling in.
their brains, and their auras, and their interactions with each other, were hopelessly clouded with the constant circular static of their pointless yapping.
they could not bark, and barely understood the simplest barking by dogs, or the other perfectly clear signals of other inhabitants of the planet.
they did not know which direction to walk in, to eat in, or sleep in, or do much of anything in.
they quarreled endlessly about nothing, about the little puffs of static their inferior brains produced.
but somehow - somehow - they were the masters - at least for a time - of creatures far superior to themselves.
there was, of course, only one possible reason.
and that is that they were themselves the puppets of invisible and unknown masters…
these and similar thoughts drifted through robbie’s brain as he watched johnny shovel mashed potatoes and creamed spinach into his mouth … with a fork!
what was the point of humans using forks? instead of just using their hands? they still washed their hands - and then they had to waste water by washing the fork too!
johnny noticed robbie watching him. johnny laughed. how about it, boy, he addrssed robbie, you want some creamed spinach?
dogs don’t like creamed spinach, sandy announced authoritatively.
how do you know? johnny asked.
i just do.
typical!
