War, What's It Good For?

That's the slogan Sugar shouted to me as we watched the news last evening. Bombs exploding on dictators' palaces (or was that a multi-story tent?); unknowable non-uniformed desert rebels or civilians shooting automatic weapons in the air when they're supposedly short of ammunition; shrieking fighter planes coming from who knows where, going to who knows where? As I gaped at it all, wooden spoon in hand, forgetting about Sugar's dinner, I distinctly heard her declaim: "War, what's it good for?" But to be perfectly truthful it might have been something like, "ARF, woof  woof WOOF, ARF!"

Now Sugar, I know, doesn't mean to denigrate war. She knows it has its uses, it's in her DNA. It has its uses, and sometimes it's unavoidable. We just like to know what we're actually fighting about, you know, like who are the parties to the conflict and which side are they on. One presumes there are two sides, or there wouldn't be a conflict, right? So who's on who's side? Is the Arab League on our side? No. But they were yesterday. Is France on our side? Yes, they initiated our side of the conflict but they only have six planes. Is Norway on our side? Yes, they were en route to Tripoli in their own U.S. made planes, but when they got to northern Africa they didn't know who was in charge, whom to ask for instructions, so they flew back home. You get the picture: there's no picture here. For all we know we're fighting on behalf of fanatics who want to kill us. Perhaps the policy is to get them all into power over there lickety-split so they can get back to their work on us. Just get it over with. Because we don't really know who they are. I don't know. You don't know. Sugar doesn't know. The president doesn't seem to know. Hillary doesn't know. General Mullen doesn't know. Ghadafi doesn't know. No wonder they call it the fog of war. Also, who are we protecting? Are they friends? If not, why not let their friends protect them? There's at least supposed to be logic to war, or else we will repeat WW I over and over. But in this instance, who lied and who died? Or do they all lie? Where is our Washington, our Lincoln, our Churchill of today to guide us through the moral morass?

So, after spooning the minced chicken breast and quinoa into Sugar's bowl, I thought I'd give her a moment to inhale the food and then digest; then get her opinion, because -- altogether now -- French Poodles (despite being French) are the geniuses of the canine kingdom.

Oh, she answered me alright. However, it will take me a little time to translate her pithy comments for you, drawn from the wisdom of the canine kingdom, man's alter ego. Don't miss tomorrow's post.