No doubt, you've seen Cesar Millan's TV program, "The Dog Whisperer." Millan has an uncanny ability to relate to dogs and in a matter of minutes can figure out what is wrong with their behavior and how to fix it.
Here's a recent picture of my ole buddy Andy (he's an Aussie). In our house, he's known as the "People Whisperer." His ability to figure out what he wants, and how to get it, is likewise uncanny.
A couple of examples might help explain what I mean.
All Andy need do is walk to the door, and someone immediately gets up and lets him out.
During breakfast, Andy comes into the kitchen, and without so much as a peep my wife gives him a slice of lunchmeat (when she's making our son's lunch), or else I will give him a small handful of his favorite cereal--Captain Crunch (which we buy for him, since none of us eat it).
The pool guy shows up once a week, and without barking or whining, Andy merely walks up to him and is immediately rewarded with one or more dog treats (which the pool guy carries with him).
You get the point. It is truly remarkable that Andy has us all figured out and has trained us so effectively.
But as you can tell, poor ole Andy is getting old (he'll be 14 in February). He's not very active any more, his face is getting grey, and he snores when he sleeps. He still chases cats, but half-heartedly, and while he still patrols his territory every morning, he doesn't have the same vigor he used to show.
We'll likely continue to do his bidding until he returns to the dust from whence he came (cf. Ecclesiastes 3:21). Too bad. He has so much invested in training us.