I don’t know what’s going on, or what this COVID-19 thing is, but it sure makes humans act weird.

When I first heard there was a pandemic, I thought they said “ham-demic” and I got really excited. But then I realized it was a very serious and scary issue and my humans are very afraid of it.

I understand this and I try to support them with my most enthusiastic tail wags. I am afraid something could happen to them.

But for now anyway, I gotta admit it: From a dog’s perspective, life has been pretty awesome.

They are home all the time to give me ear scratches and belly rubs.

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They won’t stop walking me. I mean, normally they just walk me around the block until I do my business, but now we are walking for miles and miles. I lost 4 pounds in the first two weeks!

I also am surprised at how quickly they walk. The only bad part is that if other humans are spotted — even that nice Johnson family with the fun kids and the foxy Pomeranian — they won’t stop and visit. I don’t have time for so much as a quick tail sniff with Madam Fluffles before they are yanking on my leash and hurrying me along.

Another weird thing is that they don’t show their teeth. Humans normally love showing their teeth. They walk around with their mouths curled up and their big, white teeth flashing and it’s supposed to be a friendly thing. But since this whole COVID thing started, they put masks over their mouths when we go out. I can’t tell if they are panting or snarling. It is very confusing from a dog’s perspective.

Also, they will not stop cleaning things. Apparently this COVID thing does not like dirt, so they are constantly washing their hands, sterilizing surfaces and wiping off doorknobs. I wish they would realize that my sense of smell is at least 1,000 times greater than theirs is and I can hardly breathe. Whenever they spray me with Lysol, I want to say, “Hey, buddy, I’m not the one whose computer is smeared with peanut butter and jelly.”

That brings up another topic: all the eating and cooking. They’re not just microwaving little plastic trays like they used to, but they are making great, beefy meals that fill the house with heavenly aromas. In the past, I could beg for hours and the most I would get is maybe half a burnt fish stick or, horror of horrors, a piece of broccoli. Nowadays, they are constantly spilling gravy or dropping chicken skin.

It’s raining hens, hallelujah.

They also eat lots of junk food and sugar. They call it “comfort eating” and they joke about gaining the “COVID-15.” All I know is they let me lick out the ice cream bowls. So now I’ve regained most of my weight.

When they aren’t cooking, eating over the garbage can or arguing over the remote, they are stationed in front of a computer screen on the dining room table, talking a lot, using words like “impactful” and “stakeholders,” and folding their hands into those little church-steeple shapes like they do when they try to look important. The men are wearing ties, but they are not wearing pants.

From a dog’s viewpoint, it’s not very impactful.

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Readers can reach columnist Tammy Swift at tswiftsletten@gmail.com.