DogLife

                We came up with the idea that man would be far happier if he could just act more like a dog.   To do so would remove the two major illnesses of want that afflict the human condition—those gnawing needs for Security and Significance. 

What beast has more easily conquered the need for  Security than the dog?  When he’s hungry, he goes to his bowl and wham, his master fills it.  He doesn’t complain about the quality of his meal or worry about whether he’ll be fed tomorrow.  In fact, he doesn’t even think about the next meal until he’s hungry again.  The dog’s house?  Wherever his master designs for him to lay  his head—whether that is a doghouse in the back yard or the foot of his bed—our  friend the dog is happy to have the roof over his head and never thinks to complain.  Even if dogs could talk, would “renovation” and “bonus-room” be part of their vocabulary?  How about retirement?  Well, the dog doesn’t really work does he, so how can he retire?  Even those dogs who man puts to work hunting, herding and leading the blind don’t think about retirement because for them, it’s NOT work to serve their masters doing what they were created to do.   Even if a dog had hands  to hold golf clubs, would he want to stop leading his master safely across the street so that he could spend his  last few years in Florida with other dogs?

OK,  what about the other illness of human want—Significance.  We spend our lives “chasing our dreams”, “yearning to make a difference” and “raising awareness” trying to avoid the great secular sin of having led a life wasted in quiet desperation.  We are told that there are no dumb questions, so ask away.  We believe that every voice must be heard, so speak up.  We rush madly to the defense of anonymous victims whose self-esteem is threatened by  shadowy emotional bullies.  We’ve flat run out of colors with which we can festoon our tunics with ribbons and our wrists with rubber to manifest our concern about every possible illness and need, even if they are logically incompatible—we can’t possibly be simultaneously beset by epidemics of obesity AND hunger, can we? The human quest for Significance seems to have no end, like a grail always just an inch past our exhausted grasp.  And the dog?  He’s been there beside us the whole way, satisfying his need for Significance simply by his mere proximity to his master.  Have you ever seen a beast less anxious and needful than a dog curled up at the feet of his master? 

Wait a second now Dredd.  You’re overlooking the compact between man and dog.  Man provides the dog’s room, board and significance, solely in exchange for his loyalty and obedience—that’s all the dog has to do to get everything he needs.  To whom can man look for a such a great deal?  Huh?  Who?