Hergest, says the Owner, would you stop trying to get into the Freezer.
I will try to stop, I say.
That is not the same as stopping, says the Owner.
The Moral Dog can only ever try, I say.
What are you hoping for? Asks the Owner.
A Lolly, I say. I am hoping to acquire one to Cool myself.
You have just had one, says the Owner. Try Panting. That is what Dogs do.
Panting does not Extinguish Hope, I say, as Alexander Pope said, Hope springs Eternal, I say.
The Moral Dog is guilty of Unreasonable Demands, says the Owner, as when he as just had a Lolly he cannot expect Another. Schopenhauer called hope a folly of the heart.
Schopenhauer also said that animals experience less pleasure than humans, because they lack Hope I say, so he was clearly Doggist. Hope is not a Demand, I say, Hope is an Emotion arising from the Passion of the Soul, I say. Of course, if you wish to Stamp Callously on the Moral Dog’s Soul the Moral Dog will entirely understand, I say. He is, after all, only a Dog, I say. It is, after all, only his Soul, I say.
One does not Hope with the Soul but the Rational Mind, says the Owner. Immanuel Kant connected Hope to Reason. A Dog using Hope to Demand a second Lolly and Optimism to Expect it, says the Owner, is displaying not the Soul of a Moral Dog but the Mind of a Slippery Eel.
Au contraire, I say, the Moral Dog does not feel Optimism since it has been long-since crushed by the Owner’s Marxist attitude to Lollies. Nevertheless, Camus states that it is impossible to live without Hope, even if one wishes to be free of it. The Moral Dog is therefore a Slave to Hope. He will just lie here and Pine on this Incredibly Hot Day upon which he lacks Effective Heat Exchange owing to being Too Hairy. Perhaps he will also Moult on the Carpet.
You wouldn’t, says the Owner.
Let us Hope Not, I say. Nietzsche called Hope the Rainbow over the Cascading Stream of Life, I say. Allowing the Moral Dog to cling to the admittedly unlikely chance of Another Lolly allows him to Gaze at the Rainbow. Possibly, in such a State of Hope, rather less of the Moral Dog’s hair will Fall Out. Who can say? Even a One in a Million Chance provides such Hope.
There is no point spending your Hope on a One in a Million chance, says the Owner.
Au Contraire, I say, Terry Pratchett noted that it is Well Known that million-to-one chances crop up nine times out of ten, I say, and we have agreed that Terry Pratchett was Always Right, I say. Things are looking more Hopeful by the Minute, I say.
The Man appears. What is That Dog doing? He asks.
He is Eating a Lolly, says the Owner.
Why? asks the Man.
He out-Pratchetted me, says he Owner. There was nothing I could do.
I do hope he isn’t moulting on that carpet too, says the Man.
It seems that he too has an Optimistic Soul
Hergest the Hound
I am a dog of many thoughts.