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December 22nd. The Sea.

The Owner has brought me to the Edge of the Sea. And as I walk along the beach it launches its attack. Huge pieces of sea hurl themselves at me, soaking me with salt and spraying me with foam

I am outraged. Who does it think it is? It is not even Moral. It is full of Fish. Everyone Knows Fish are Unworried by Rising Sea Levels. Indeed it is Probably a Fish Plot.

I attack the Sea, barking wildly to scare it off, and it withdraws with an Amoral sucking sound but then launches a pincer attack from left and right. The Sea is attempting to imitate the Vietnamese Nationalists routing the French at Dienbienphu. The Moral Dog is Better Versed in Military Strategy than this. The Moral Dog will not be outwitted by a Giant Pond, however many Fish it has in it.

Not so fast, Sea, I say. you have reckoned without the Moral Dog, who is a close personal friend of Greta Thunberg. No sea levels are going to be rising when the Moral Dog is on duty. I Say this Forcefully to the Sea and it definitely looks Chastened. It withdraws again.

I believe I have the measure of it. Up and down the beach I go, making the Moral Position clear to the Sea and all its Amoral Fish. There is Beach and there is Sea, I remind it. There is an agreement. As Crimea has repeatedly told Mr Putin, you cannot redraw the boundaries whenever you feel like it. This is Against the Rules.

The Sea sloshes around ineffectively, frothing and splashing and showing every appearance of defiance, but I Stand My Ground. You Shall Not Pass, I cry Gandalfishly. The sea grumbles back threateningly, like the Balrog only wetter, but I am Undaunted.

The Owner and the Man are further down the beach, apparently unaware of the Gargantuan Battle in which I am Engaged. Come on, Hergest, they are shouting.

The Sea Level is rising, I shout back. Greta Thunberg said we must Act Now.

But it is time for lunch, says the Owner.

Lunch? I say. I shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. I shall fight on the beaches, I shall fight on the landing grounds, I shall fight in the fields and in the streets, I shall fight in the hills; I shall never surrender.

That sounds like Churchill rather than Greta Thunberg, says the Owner.

I bet Churchill didn’t stop for lunch, I say, and I imagine Greta Thunberg only has a sandwich, which is Only Reasonable since she is Still Growing.

Actually, says the Owner, I believe Churchill did stop for Lunch. Quite often. And you are also Still Growing.

I feel it would be acceptable to Stop for Lunch if Churchill did so, particularly given that I am Still Growing. Very well, I say, I shall just warn the Sea that I will be Back Later.

I run along the Edge of the Water one more time, making the position clear to the Sea. It seems to me that it has retreated slightly. Greta Thunberg would be delighted. Perhaps even delighted enough to have an extra sandwich. With enough Moral Dogs stationed on the shore, we could possibly save the Maldives.

Later, I am pleased to note that the Sea has Learned its Lesson. It has retreated far down the beach and is sulking in the weed. It is a good thing I got here when I did.

Categories: dignity dog dog philosophy sea

Hergest the Hound

I am a dog of many thoughts.

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