We have nothing else for Breakfast, says the Owner. We will have to eat our Precious Resource.
The Oven is turned on. Some strange strips of Unappetising Material are taken from a packet and placed on a grille. Toast is prepared. The Oven door is Shut. The Owner takes some Spherical Orange Objects and Crushes them Mercilessly. The Moral Dog, attempting to Participate, receives an Eyeful of some Further Unpleasant Human Delicacy. On Balance, he Preferred having Eye Drops put in.
The Man appears. Coffee is made. I Move Away to avoid the Smell. There is little in life as Disgusting as the Concoctions the Owner and the Man like to Drink. The Other Day the Owner even made a Drink with gas in it and added a Paper Umbrella. I cannot Imagine why the Owner and the Man would want to drink Gas. One can Only Imagine the Risks of Overconsumption. I do not want the Owner to Float Away, it would be Most Distressing.
The Owner and the Man sit at the Breakfast Table and Begin to Converse on the Matters of the Day. Their Usual Schedule has been Unchanged for Several Weeks. First they Moan about the Prime Minister, the Home Secretary, the Health Secretary, the Foreign Secretary and Donald Trump. Then they read about People who have died with Covid and the Owner’s Nose becomes a Tomato. Then they watch Footage of Various Other Humans doing things for Covid and the Owner Develops Hiccups and talks about the Amazing Human Spirit that has Developed and that will Help those who are Struggling to Survive. Then they listen to a Song by the Rough Island Band to Cheer them Up. Then they wash up and the Moral Dog finally gets some Necessary Exercise. It is, to be Honest, Dully predictable.
Today Something is Different.
It is not the fact that they decide that they have Had Enough of Prime Minister, the Home Secretary, the Health Secretary, the Foreign Secretary and Donald Trump this week and would like to Pretend they Do Not Exist. It is not that the List of Losses is any less, and in fact a Doctor who trained with the Owner is tragically on there. It is not even the fact that the Footage of Other Humans doing things for Covid includes Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones and the Owner decides to Reimagine herself as some sort of Rock Chick.
It is something Far More Profound.
Sometimes in life one encounters a Watershed Moment, a Moment when the Scales fall away from One’s Eyes, a Moment after which things are never again the same as they were before. All of life’s perceptions are Altered. All actions and reactions are Cloaked in a New Light. Enlightenment Dawns and all our Yesterdays are but as Shadows. It is like the metaphor of Plato’s Cave, a cave which Plato imagined people imprisoned from childhood, able only to see the fire in front of them and the Shadows of those walking Outside. They think their world is all that there is but then one prisoner is freed, and he Experiences the Greater Reality that is the Whole Truth. There is light! There are people! his Reality is Forever Altered. He cannot be the Person he Once Was. The people he once knew no longer know him.
Today the Moral Dog Encountered Such a Moment.
The Oven Door opened and Ushered In the First Day of the Rest of his Life.
Today was the moment when, Accompanied to the sound of Mick Jagger serenading the world from his Living Room, the Moral Dog was Swathed for the First time, Enrobed and Enraptured, Suffused and Permeated, Caressed and Adored by a Smell of such Sublime Qualities that All his Yesterdays were But as Shadows.
Hergest? Says the Voice of the Owner, as if from a Great Distance.
And, just like that, the Never Ending Bacon Vigil Begins.
What is the Matter with that Dog? Asks the Man. Why is he Lying on the Floor with his Legs in the Air in a State of Apparent Rapture?
I cannot imagine, says the Owner, who is again attempting some kind of Jive to the sound of Mick Jagger that really is not Age Appropriate.
You gave him Bacon didn’t you? Says the Man.
I might have done, says the Owner.
You do realise that Life will Never be the Same Again? Says the Man.
You do Exaggerate, says the Owner.
He Doesn’t, Actually.
Hergest the Hound
I am a dog of many thoughts.