Hergest, get off me, says the Owner.
Why can I not sit on the Front Seat? I ask.
Because I am on it, says the Owner.
In what sense can you possibly mean such a statement? I ask.
In the sense that I do not want you On It with me, says the Owner.
You did not refuse to have me On It with you when I was a Puppy and still cute, I say. How fast the affections of an Owner Wither and Fade, I say. What a tragic world this is, I say.
When you were a Puppy you were clean, says the Owner.
I am still Clean on the Inside, I say.
You are Filthy on the Outside, says the Owner.
Are you rejecting the Affectionate Overtures of your Moral Dog because of a little Pond Slime? I ask.
No, says the Owner, I am rejecting the Slime on the Moral Dog which Coats his every Hair and Toe in the kind of Primeval Ooze that proved so Detrimental to the Massed Brontosauruses of Utah who, if you recall, all Passed Away mysteriously in the Utah Slime..
Are you comparing the Glorious Aroma of your Moral Dog to that of an Extinct but Smelly Herbivore? I ask.
No, says the Owner, I doubt that the Herbivore was ever this Smelly.
Smelly is a Human Concept that the Moral Dog do not share, I say.
Glorious Aroma is a Dog Concept that I do not share, says the Owner, and it is My Front Seat.
If a Brontosaurus is covered in Slime in a World without People, I say, can it possibly be Smelly?
If the Moral Dog was covered in Slime in a world without People, says the Owner, the Brontosauruses would Run Away.
The essence of the Moral Dog is Unchanged, I say, his Coating is Morally Irrelevant.
The Coating stands between the Moral Dog and his Owner, says the Owner, and smells like a Drain.
It is Good Healthy Mud, I say.
If that Mud is Healthy, says the Owner, I would hate to meet Sick Mud.
I cannot believe I have the Kind of Owner cannot see through the Outer Mud Layer and into the Inner Dog, I say.
It is very Opaque Mud, says the Owner.
The Moral Dog retreats, defeated, to his Usual Place in the Back of the Car. Once again, thanks to some Flimsy Excuse, he is Not Allowed to Drive.
Sometimes the Owner is So Superficial.
Hergest the Hound
I am a dog of many thoughts.