The Blue Dog was philosophical about being a dog. Which is to say when he contemplated philosophy it was to say, “screw philosophy and just be a dog.” (But he had nothing against philosophers in general, as long as they petted him and gave him a treat.
Sometimes the Blue Dog stopped to ponder (in a non-philosophical way) the random drawings he came across in the notebooks scattered about the house. He didn’t know what to make of these faces. “But they look friendly enough,” he thought.
Sometimes the sun on your nose feels as good as finding the right tennis ball or waking up in the guest bed. The Blue Dog normally eschews trendy clichés, but “it’s all good” came to his mind. Then, breakfast drove it back out.