Sometimes I like to think that my dog, Waffles, can understand English. The idealization may have come from this one time when I was sitting on the wood, kitchen floor with him and told him to go get his tennis ball so I could play fetch with him, he then trotted to the other side of the kitchen and carried his ball back to me. I actually think he may associate part of a “daily routine” with sentences he hears repeatedly at that moment. For example, in the mornings, as soon as I announce that I am going to walk to the bus stop, he heads straight for the door. My sister, Katelyn, makes jokes about how she would let Waffles do her taxes if he actually were human, which I can’t seem to argue with, especially considering he is part Poodle. Although I know my dog can’t understand English, I mean, it sounds crazy just typing it, sometimes it’s nice to escape reality and be in a better world for a moment.