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Hello readers!
I’ve been doing some thinking lately. About cats, mostly. But any thought on catkind conjures thoughts of dogkind, too. A ponder of a thing should include its antithesis - its enemy, its opposite - and as such I’ve given the canine species a jolly pondering indeed.
I have a few thoughts.
I can't just keep it to dogs, of course. Not possible. I refuse to stay on topic. I can’t even say I got a cat without ragging on commies. Going off topic is a part of staying on topic for me. Non sequitur? Perhaps. But I don't own the rights to that comic. We’ll never know.
Mostly, I wondered mostly what dogs think about all day while their human is elsewhere. Aside from dreaming about huffing other-dog butts, I suspect they're mostly poo-thoughts.
When will I get to poo? Where will I get to pee? Where do I want to pee? What piss-soaked fence pole says me the most? So on. You think they're excited to see you, but come on. No one likes you that much. Not even dogs. But everyone poops. Even dogs. Morgan Freeman says so.
Dogs are a lot like humans. We made them that way. We saw to it. Humans domesticated the canine, not the other way around. That means they are rewarded for taking on traits we also value in human beings. Loyalty, friendship, companionship, judgment-free peanut butter related adventures, etc.
Best boys (and girls, you pigs) are essential when one wants their genitals licked but can’t afford the bottle of wine that otherwise requires. Peanut butter is cheap and delicious and there is definitely a labor value theory of economics in play on the dog's part. Suckers. They'll do anything for a seat at the table. I do not recommend this with cats.
They prefer the table itself.
So, it’s easy to see how dog-owners can get confused about whether dogs love them or something else. Never have this problem with cats. You know the cat hates you, but it’s a business thing so it doesn’t matter. The cat doesn't even like peanut butter, they just know they have hooks in their tongues.
But imagine yourself trapped inside all day without thumbs and without access to or knowledge of a toilet bowl, battling a traitorous sphincter weakening by the second. The only reason they don't deposit it at the inside of the front door is the thrill of planning the thing. The relief would be immediate. But dogs are great at delayed gratification and plotting. Famous for it.
Once they finally get outside - and props to puppers for pinching it all day - the game is finally afoot. Now we’re walking. The human believes we are engaging in unplanned fun. We’re going through the motions of hunting and scouting. It's expected of us. But we had all gods damned day to plan this shit. We’re not exploring at this point. We’re executing.
Humans don't actually want spontaneous, of course. That would be pissing on the rug, suddenly and violently like some kind of German nihilist. No, we prefer an ordered existence where poop knows its place.
And here creeps in the antithesis.
The Seattle City Council works tirelessly and that’s half the problem. They're a public health menace that works tirelessly to make the city as intolerable an environment for a human being as humanly possible. That includes an unwillingness to clean up the city due to humanitarian concerns. That requires active opposition to a fecal-free environment.
Yes, the Seattle City Council believes human beings should live waist deep in feces because it's the right thing to do. For humanity.
These people are enough to drive a man to smoke. I space them out so I don't smoke too much. I have a system. I think I’ve found the perfect balance. I listen to an entire punk rock album between cigarettes. It’s only about twenty minutes and by then you're ready for another one. Some of these guys seem upset. It’s stressful.
Anyway, without the government who would neglect the roads? Check mate, libertarians. I’Il leave you with that, I hear Megan coming home and it’s about time for our walk. Good thing too, I gotta turtle head poking out.