It was, Odd concluded, an animal with a plan. (from Odd and the Frost Giant by Neil Gaiman)
I feel this way about my dog Spur pretty often. She’s smart, and tries really hard to communicate with me. The usual pattern: she walks into the room where I am, sits down, stares intently (soul-searchingly) at me, whines once, and then repeats the whole process until I respond in the desired way. Usually, that means I ask a series of questions trying to determine what she wants. Do you want water? Are you hungry? Do you need to go outside? Do you want to play? Do you want a treat? (Of course, I only ask the questions that I’m willing to facilitate at the time.) She waits for me to ask the right question, and then she responds by barking, stretching, or a full-body shake. But sometimes, none of the questions are right. She’s trying to get me to do something, but I don’t know what it is. It’s clear that she has a plan in mind. I think that most of her plans end with me giving her loads of treats, or maybe giving her treats while also taking her on walks and runs and car rides to exciting locations, where we will play ball until she’s utterly exhausted. And then more treats. But mostly, I think her plans involve quality time with me. That’s a plan I can get behind.