My dogs’ an asshole nevertheless he is a lovable being. I look at him lying on my mother’s bed with a face that seems to transmit worry. He looks into my eyes as I stare back he looks away uncomfortably. I can relate my relationship with my dog to my real life. There is an amazing lack of receptability that a dog can take from a genuine human jerk, an asswhipe to embellish this honourable essay. As I write he does not budge from the most abnormal position a dog can be in, he has his head between his front paws while his back chicken like thighs are spread across the mattress his tale scrunched beneath his body. Why is this, why does my dog stay looking at his owner instead of retreating to his own endeavours such as the destroying of a ducks head rolled inside a sock or manically run around the apartment attempting to lead me into a playtime session. Is he worried? Perhaps. The best and most logical explanations would be or the desire to be fed, pampered with a T-bone of massive proportions or the fact that a scavenger hunt for the scent of other partners in piss is always appealing to mans best friend. But why should I ramble on about the dogs’psique when in fact it is my firm belief that there is no such thing. Animals act on instinct, dogs act on an instinct often compromised by the education of a human person, speaking of which, there seems to be a striking resemblance between this behaviour I expose and the one of a man or woman. All human beings are, according to the theory of the good savage, born good and of kind nature and it is there up bringing that presents them to ways of evil, the elaborate and most evolved human way, the human lust, greed, sloth, envy, gluttony, pride and wrath is the human rulebook, there is no sense in the human brain, just instinct, cold, calculus, selfish instinct. There is no genuine good my friends, although I hate to be the bearer of bad news this is the undeniable truth, to the hopeful, to the Christian, to the pink, to the sweet, to the loved and to those in love, to the preachers of forgiveness, to the beautiful persons, to all who believe in the everlasting power of a good spirit and a kind heart, take my skeptical and cynical advice and go and watch a film, offer your minds to a detachment of reality which is the closest the human nature will get to the feeling they most advertise, love is not real. I bid you farewell and pray that you rest your worries on other things than the sheer morbidness and depressive channelling of a young boys anger.