The humans are on the whole not bad mammals.

Their major moral flaw as I see it is the enduring mania, the obsession, with determining the real identity of this mysterious, iconic Good Boy.

In the first place, the answer seems so blindingly obvious. Literally slobbering in their sheeplike faces. I’m sorry to growl. It’s just … frustrating.

And in the second: How can one make such a recurring study of a question, any question, and yet never arrive at the slightest hint of a satisfying answer? You would think they’d find it hopeless after a while and just accept the confusing nature of consciousness as a given, the same as any rational beast.

I really just don’t get it.

But .. speaking of acceptance … so long as the Ken-L-Ration and the beef bones and the tennis balls keep flowing like spice from Arrakis, I believe I can learn to live with a single peccadillo, no matter how large and baffling.

On balance, life is good.