What he so pensively contemplates on – lying there all day long – with that forlorn look about him – I will never know. There is not an iota of doubt in my mind that we will come upon a day when luminary philosophers – the likes of which include “Plato”, “Cicero”, “Cato”, and “Zeno”- will have to scoot over and make space for “JayJay-o”.

“The great philosopher who wore a toga of fur has arrived!” they would perhaps exclaim.

What boggles me no end is how he will suddenly get up and, just when I think “Oh! he must be going – this was a waste of time… Stoicism is for the weenies… let me go serve my master”, he will actually decide to amble over about five feet (six, tops), plonk himself down, sigh a big sigh, and go back to staring into the vast void. Like, what he was really thinking is “On to Chapter 2”.

What the hell is he thinking? What is the meaning of life? Did I miss a spot in downtown last night? Why did God create squirrels? Is God married?

We may never know.

This dog! I tell you!!