I put my questions about war to Sugar. She was still licking gravy off her lower lip whiskers (I know, disgusting to let a French Poodle grow whiskers, but she's getting groomed day after tomorrow).
"We seem so confused, Sugar, about this war, or non-war, in Libya. No one knows what's going on. You dogs know a thing or two about fighting," I averred to a four-pound ball of fluff.
Sugar licked her chops and stared at me thoughtfully. I realized then and there that I would get nowhere without a little dessert. Chopped her up a few bits of avocado, her favorite exotic delicacy.
Then she furrowed her brow, lifted her ears attentively, and stared me straight in the eye. Well, friends, if there's such a thing as meta-verbal communication, she let me have it straight up.
"What's wrong with you Humans? You are losing your instinct for self-preservation, and that's bad for us canines. We need you for protection, just as you need us for protection." I looked at the mini-weakling and rolled my eyes. But she didn't stop there. She was worked up. A low growl escaped her throat.
"When some stranger comes to the door, or near a window, I bark, don't I? Why? Use your great big noodle. Because I don't know whether it's a friend or foe, and in the art of survival, you can't take chances. You look, you sniff intensely, you know. Friend? Welcome. Foe? I'm gonna bite your damn head off if I can. If you have any intention whatsoever of harming me, my Humans, my Humans' property, you'd better be prepared for a fight. But first, silly Humans, you must determine whether the trespasser is friend or foe. Then be ready to protect your own self-interest. That's survival. Now I, as your official dog, think that my establishment is well worth protecting and not only that; but also worth developing to its most prosperous and happiest state, [Sugar has read the Founding Father with me, we're now on the new Ron Chernow bio of George Washington and Sugar recommends it highly as a great read.] Anyone who wants to deny you that is a foe. Go get 'im. But something like a squirrel down from a tree? [She was probably alluding to Ghadafi, which was my original question to her.] Don't inflame your throat muscles barking at him, and save your chompers for the big rat out there somewhere. That squirrel is disgusting, being a form of rodent, but you could make a meal of him, and he can't really make a meal of you. He's just a nut chomper."
I think Sugar's onto something. We humans have diverged so far from our animal natures, that we can no longer attend to our own self-interest without wearing a hair shirt. The worst part is that some people blithely aver that that's a good thing, it's progress. They might have sung a different tune had they been confronted by Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot or the Mad Mullahs of today, but these lucky folks live in the enlightened nations and don't have to worry about their big mouths and ideas landing them in a dungeon. or worse.
Sugar knows better. She snorts at them. She's the child of nature and also shares a sort of soul with us. She also avoided college where so many dumb ideas are now drummed into the heads of innocent youth. And though she's ridiculously domesticated, she hasn't forgotten her essential truths -- the ones concerning self-preservation and the right to the self-interested pursuit happiness, and God help anyone who wants to abolish it. She pursues it night and day and doesn't feel the slightest pang of guilt. Ah, guilt. But that's another story, for another time.
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