Penguins, I say.
Indeed, says the Owner.
They really appreciated the Caravaggios, I say.
Apparently so, says the Owner.
They were less interested in Monet, I say.
So it is said, says the Owner.
Philistines, I say.
They are Penguins, says the Owner. Almost Ducks.
The Moral Dog who has recently discovered he has Webbed Feet no longer rises to Duck Related Insults. I have never been taken to an Art Gallery, I say.
Sadly, says the Owner, the Art Galleries I frequent are not open to Moral Dogs.
Houdini has been to several Art Galleries, I say.
I can imagine that was Briefly Exciting for All Concerned, says the Owner.
He did not have chance to appreciate the Caravaggios, I say. They passed in a blur of Pursuit and Recrimination and he finished up hiding unsuccessfully behind a Modigliani Sculpture, I say. It was Too Thin, I say. If he had known more about Art he would have chosen the Henry Moore room. He would probably Be There Still.
Not all Art is in Art Galleries, says the Owner. We have a lovely Picture of a Boat in the Bathroom.
If that is All that is On Offer then I shall go to contemplate it now, I say.
Splendid, says the Owner.
I will go immediately, I say.
Enjoy, says the Owner.
I would not mind, I say, if it were not for the Penguins, I say. It is not Fair, I say. It is Doggist, I say. Who gets to decide that Persons and Penguins may sit and Stare at Caravaggios but Moral Dogs are condemned to Boats in the Bathroom? I ask. Where is my Cultural Education, supposed to come from? I ask.
The Moral Dog must find it in the Museum and Art Gallery of Life says the Owner.
It is a poor excuse for Neglect of the Moral Dog’s Cultural Sensibilities. The Moral Dog knows when he is being Palmed Off. Next time Houdini goes to the Tate I am going with him.
Hergest the Hound
I am a dog of many thoughts.