Let us go into His dwelling place;
Let us worship at His footstool.
Our dog Carmel is solar-powered. Every day she lays out in the sun for hours having expanded her surface area as much as possible in a position as spread-eagle as a dog can get: all four paws sticking out, tail straight out, head thrown back. Her nose twitches as she sniffs things and her tongue lolls on the grass as she pants, but otherwise she remains perfectly still, absorbing 1 calorie/second/in2. Occasionally, when her batteries have fully recharged, she jumps up, dashing back and forth along the fence or vigorously defending our yard from marauding squirrels. If we tied her in the front yard, this routine will expand to include barking at dangerous bicyclists and runners, licking small children, and vigilantly watching our dead-end street for any sign of trouble. Then, with all the electrons drained from her, she flops back down in the bright sun, expending energy only to sniff and pant.
I cannot imagine how she gets by in the winters. Perhaps she has a converter that turns dry kibble into a form of energy similar to solar ray energy, but I personally think she hibernates most of the cloudy winter. She lives for those dog days of summer.