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Oct 26th. Own Good.

I am Wearing a Lampshade.

It is for your Own Good, says the Owner.

I think I am the Best Judge of That, I say.

I can See it is a Little Embarrassing, says the Owner.

A little? I say. The Other Dogs will Laugh so Hard they will Roll Down the Hill, I say. The Chihuahua May Even Explode, I say. Which is Some Comfort, I say. Although Doubtless the Moral Dog will be Blamed, I say. As he Always Is, I say. As to the Ducks, I say. It does not Bear Thinking About, I say. I can already hear the Hideous Quacking, I say. As to the Vet, I say. I shall say Nothing about the Vet, I say. There is Nothing One can Say about the Vet, I say. Nothing that Enraged Silence cannot Amply Communicate, I say. Which is Louder than Any Words, I say.

I Doubt It, says the Owner, but the Moral Dog could Give it a Go, says the Owner.

I Cannot Reach my Leg, I say. It is Itching, I say. A Moral Dog Must Chew, I say.

Exactly, says the Owner.

I Cannot Even See It, I say. How can I be Sure it is Still There? I ask. The Vet may have Lopped It Off, I say. He is Always Threatening to Remove Loose Parts, I say.

You Would not Want to See It, says the Owner. It would give you Nightmares, says the Owner. The Worst, says the Owner.

The Worst? I say. You Mean the Moral Dog’s Leg is being Gnawed Upon by Headless Zombies? I say. How could you let this Happen? I say.

Headless Zombies do not Chew, says the Owner. They Merely Glare Terrifyingly, says the Owner. Although it is Not Clear What With, says the Owner.

I Knew It, I say. I could Sense the Glaring, I say.

I can see the Moral Dog’s Leg, says the Owner. It is Zombie Free, says the Owner. Trust me, says the Owner. And the Vet, says the Owner.

I am Too Busy Saying Nothing about the Vet to Comment on his Trustworthiness, I say. Frankly he is about as Trustworthy as a Squirrel, I say. Removing the Moral Dog’s Leg under Cover of a Lampshade is Positively Deviant, I say. My Enraged Silence about the Vet Continues beneath my Moral Discourse with my Owner, I say.

Why does the Moral Dog Want to See his Leg? I asks the Owner.

Because the Moral Dog has Agency, I say. He can Decide for Himself whether He does not Want to See it, I say. Only upon Seeing It will He be Fully Informed, I say. He is the Best Arbiter of his Own Good, I say.

There is a Flaw in that Argument , says the Owner.

Did not Immanuel Kant Accord all Moral Beings the Dignity of Free Will and the Right to Exercise it? I say. Did not Milton say ‘I made him just and right, sufficient to have stood, though free to fall,’? I say. Am I not In Charge of my Own Destiny? I say. Am I not a Man? I ask. Am I not a Brother? I ask.

Yes, and Yes, and No, says the Owner. And No, and Not Mine.

Kant would Have you for Breakfast, I say.

Kant would Understand the Overarching Commitment to Dignity adopted by the Owner and the Vet, says the Owner.

Even if One Accepts that the Ends can Sometimes Justify the Means, not even Jeremy Bentham, the Famous Consequentialist, would agree that being Pursued around the Park by Mocking Ducks supports a Moral Dog’s Interests in Dignity, I say. You are speaking of Lifelong Humiliation, I say.

Ducks Do Not Live as long as Moral Dogs, says the Owner.

Memories Live for Ever, I say. I Shall Go Down in the Annals of Ducks, I say. In these Days of Social Media no Humiliation is Ever Forgotten, I say. You had Better Not Put this on Facebook, I say.

I have No Future Plans to Do So, says the Owner.

I Suppose you have Already Done It, I say.

I Might Have Done, says the Owner.

It will Already have been Saved to a Million Laptops, I say.

The Moral Dog is Slightly Overstating his Social Media Presence, says the Owner.

It is Immaterial, I say. Kant was Very Clear that Choices cannot be justified by Consequences, I say. The Two are subject to Separate Moral Judgements, I say. Some Choices are Morally Forbidden, I say. Whatever the Consequences, I say. The Right has Priority over the Good, I say.

The Moral Dog would Think Differently if he could See his Leg, says the Owner. The Owner and the Vet have to Live with the Memories, says the Owner.

Then Show Me, I say. Then we shall see where Jeremy Bentham has Got Us, I say. What can you Expect from a Man so Overcome by the Demands of Philosophising that he had himself Pickled and Put in a Case? I say. Hurrah for Immanuel Kant, I say. He would not have Put a Lampshade on his Dog, I say. Nor Lopped of his Leg in an Ultimately Pointless Attempt to Disguise him as an Anglepoise, I say.

On Your Head Be It, says the Owner.

The Owner Removes the Moral Dog’s Lampshade.

The Moral Dog Looks. And Looks Again.

? ? I say.

Happy Now? Asks the Owner.

I Cannot Speak for Shock, I say, Slightly Inaccurately. You appear to have Confused your Moral Dog with your PhD, I say. One requires Holding Together with Multiple Staples, I say. The Other requires Cheese, I say. And Walks, I say. Oh, and Not Stapling, I say.

Not Necessarily, says the Owner.

Not Stapling is a Standard Requirement, I say. Like Not Putting Your Dog in the Microwave, I say. How Could You? I say. My Worst Dreams just got Worse, I say. Worse than Headless Zombies, I say. Headless Zombies with Staplers, I say.

The Moral Dog had Cut his Leg, says the Owner. Badly, says the Owner. Such that the Entirety of the Moral Dog could have Escaped through the Gash, says the Owner. If the Moral Dog thinks he has Nightmares he cannot Contemplate the Nightmares this Sight gave to the Vet and the Owner, says the Owner. Headless Zombies with Staplers would be a Positive Treat by Comparison, says the Owner. Bring them On, says the Owner. It will help Us Sleep, says the Owner.

I cannot Imagine anything Worse than Headless Zombies with Staplers, I say.

That is because you Did not see the Leg without the Staples, says the Owner. But Let Us Remove the Staples, says the Owner. Then the Moral Dog can have Full Agency regarding what he Sees, and can Exercise his Agency to Chew on his Hideously Wounded Leg until only a Three-Legged Dog remains, says the Owner. Of the Kind that Headless Zombies are Understood to Prefer, says the Owner. And whilst He Does so I can Describe the Hideous Dreams, says the Owner. In the Interests of the Moral Dog’s Dignity, says the Owner. And Allowing the Moral Dog Full Agency regarding what he Does and Does Not Wish to Know.

It seems that Immanuel Kant may have failed to Consider the Particular Scenario of a Moral Dog with a Hideously Injured Leg pursued by Headless Zombies, I say.

One could Understand It, says the Owner. Given the demands of All That Philosophising, says the Owner. What is the Moral Dog doing? Says the Owner. Can he be Putting on the Lampshade Himself? Asks the Owner.

It is For my Own Good, I say.

Categories: betrayal dignity dreaming ethics Jeremy Bentham Kant

Hergest the Hound

I am a dog of many thoughts.

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