There’s a guitar in the corner of my living room. My living room is about a mile from the Seahawks stadium. I have a dog. I watch the Seahawks on TV. When I do, I snack. When I snack, the dog keeps a close eye on me.
When the Seahawks score, they set off fireworks that sound like cannons. The noise scares the dog, who wants to get away, but not so far that she can’t keep an eye on my snacks. A few seconds later, the game, on tape delay, shows the scoring play and I holler “whooo!” My approval reassures the dog. The dog, sitting in the corner of the living room, next to the guitar, wags her tail. The tail whaps the guitar and sounds the strings.
Thus, the dog plays the guitar.
I’m taking a programming class. By keeping a close eye on a few people, and grabbing bits of help whenever they are offered, I’ve been able to use my hands on the keyboard to, technically, bang out a couple of short programs.
The dog plays the guitar. The writer writes code.