Tail bites man

Peppermint Patti

Die Welt is alles, was der Schwanz ist.

— Ludwig Wittgenhund, Tractatus Dogico-Philosophicus

By Peppermint Patti

Do two-leggers ever think, Sophie, about what they’re saying?

I mean, engage gray matter before opening yap!

What does that mean, “the tail wagging the dog”?

So typical two-legger.

Two-legger-think.

I could write a book!

Absurd.

Do two-leggers ever — EVER!! — try to think like a dog?

Tail wagging the dog, indeed!

Almost as bad as “man bites dog”!

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

The idea of a tail wagging a dog — ludicrous.

Does a tail think?

Does a tail have will?

Volition?

Does a tail know right from wrong?

If you put in front of a tail —

Well, there you see how dimwitted the very concept is. Who would think of putting something BEFORE a tail?

The only way to approach a tail is AFTER the thing.

As I was about to say, if you put AFTER — by which I mean BEHIND — a tail, say, a bush-tail (aka a squirrel) and a floater (aka a bird), would the tail know the difference?

All tails are the same to a tail.

A tail is without meaning unless attached to its owner, whether it be a dog, a groaner (by which I mean the anathema two-leggers spell C-A-T) or a floater, as defined super.

Understood properly, it is philosophical hokum to speak of tails wagging dogs.

A tail is not an independent actor. It cannot think. It cannot feel. It cannot make a logical or even illogical choice.

Transitive verbs are out when it comes to tails.

Tails do not DO a thing.

Without, that is, permission of their owner.

My tail is a very active tail, but only when I will it so.

In a future conversation, Sophie, I’ll tell you what I think about “man bites dog.”

Right now, I wanted to make clear that our tails belong to us, the dogs, and no two-legger, no matter how smart she thinks she is — can wag our tails without a say-so from the dog.