An aged Jack Russell Terrier is in the process of hiding a rubber toy in the folds of a blanket in a crate/end-table. He is concentrating intensely on his task, and periodically removes the toy, carries it around a bit, and then starts the process of hiding it again.
Me: So, Eddie, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.
Eddie: What? How can you even see me right now? Everyone knows that hiding dogs are invisible. You are some kind of freak, human. You’ve got those laser eyes or something, right? That’s why you wear that weird thing on your face, like that mutant dude.
Me: [patiently] Eddie, we’ve talked about this. You are not now and never have been invisi — wait, did you just call me Cyclops? I’m nearsighted! Those are my glasses! The eye lasers don’t improve his vision, and…well, he’s totally the douchiest X-man. I think I’m insulted.
Eddie: Whatever, lady. I just call ’em like I see ’em, and you are obviously a mutant. Now shut up and let me work.
Me: But that’s what I wanted to ask you about. Why are you always hiding your toys in Henry’s bed? Isn’t that just the same as giving them to Henry? I mean, you can’t think he doesn’t know they’re in there.
Eddie: He’s cool. He doesn’t have a laser nose.