You are not my dog. I don’t actually have any pets. Therefore, it is not necessary or welcome for you to run into my room and jump on me repeatedly because you want me to let you out so you can stand on the deck for a minute before wandering back into the house. Especially when Chris, who IS your owner, is sitting in the living room, mere feet from the back door, while I am downstairs. And EXTRA expecially when I can smell cedar chips when you jump on me, thus busting you as having just come out of the spare room where you’ve once again been snacking in the litter boxes.