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May 16th. Sarcasm.

The Foxes come to be fed every day. Their level of Entitlement is flabbergasting. They look at me as if the Owner is some sort of Shared Resource and eat my Bedtimes Biscuits without so much as an Acknowledgement by Whose they Really Are. They are Making Assumptions. It should not be allowed, I tell the Owner. It is demeaning to a Moral Dog to be subject to the Assumptions of Foxes, I say. I need to Bark, I say.

Do not Bark, says the Owner, it is noisy and the Foxes are very Pretty, and they are doing no harm. Why would the Moral Dog object to them visiting.

Pretty? I say. There was a time when the Moral Dog was considered Pretty, I say. They are Dogs without loyalty to Owners and they smell like Drains, I pointed out. If a Passing Moral Dog were to invite one indoors for the night we would soon know what was Pretty and what was Not.

The Moral Dog is Handsome, says the Owner, which is a far more Moral Dog-appropriate word than Pretty, which is something of a wuss-word, do you not think? And it is not as though they enter the Moral Dog’s territory. They would not dare invade the territory of so Handsome a Dog.

The Moral Dog is comforted by this and does not Bark. Pretty is indeed a wuss word. And the Moral Dog is in command of his Territory at all times.

And then…

There were Squirrels in the garage this morning. I do not know what the world is coming to. I put in a complaint to Management. I am going to Bark, I say.

Do not Bark, says the Owner, it is noisy and the Squirrels are Rather Sweet.

There was a time when the Moral Dog was considered Sweet, I observe. They are Rats with tails, I say. If a Passing Moral Dog were to give one such a chewing that its tail fell off we would soon see what was Rather Pretty and what was Not.

The Moral Dog is Handsome, says the Owner, which is a far more Dog-appropriate word than Sweet, which is something of a wuss-word, do you not think? And they are only in the Garage.

That is part of the Moral Dog’s territory, I say.

Not really, says the Owner, it is half outside. They would not dare invade the territory of so Handsome a Dog.

The Moral Dog is comforted by this, although his Territory does seem to be shrinking. Sweet is indeed a wuss word. And the Moral Dog is in command of his Territory at all times.

And then…

There is a Mouse in the Kitchen. It has been eating coffee beans and, more recently, the Owner’s favourite rose soap. I am apparently not allowed to eat the Mouse, although the Owner makes some very unflattering comments about the potential benefits of a Rose Scented Mouse for what she refers to as Dog Breath.

I suppose I must not Bark, I say.

Well done, says the Owner.

I suppose it is Cute, I say.

The Moral Dog is Very Observant, says the Owner.

And I suppose that the Moral Dog, being Handsome, a far more Dog-appropriate word than Cute, which is something of a wuss-word, should not begrudge the Mouse its Cuteness? And I suppose the Mouse is only in the Kitchen half of the time. It is half outside, so it is not really on the Moral Dog’s Territory. It would not dare invade the territory of so Handsome a Dog.

I am so glad you understand, says the Owner.

Does she not understand Sarcasm?

Categories: dignity dog dog philosophy Uncategorized

Hergest the Hound

I am a dog of many thoughts.

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