What does it mean to be a FRENCH Bulldog?

Bruce this question initially really perplexed me. I could not believe you had asked it. I thought that when we met I would have to try to explain existentialism to you, a small dog. Trying to define a philosophical theory that holds that a set of categories, governed by the norm of authenticity, is necessary to grasp human existence would have been tough going. (It clearly is beyond our political leaders, who tell us we now face an ‘existential’ threat in North Africa. I think they have got confused because Camus was Algerian)

Even though to approach existentialism in this categorial way may seem to conceal what is often taken to be its “heart” namely, its character as a gesture of protest against academic philosophy, its anti-system sensibility, its flight from the “iron cage” of reason. It would nevertheless have been necessary for you to understand that the major existential philosophers wrote with a passion and urgency rather uncommon in our own time.  Whilst the idea that philosophy cannot be practiced in the disinterested manner of an objective science is indeed central to existentialism, it is equally true that all the themes popularly associated with existentialism—dread, boredom, alienation, the absurd, freedom, commitment, nothingness, and so on—find their philosophical significance in the context of the search for a new categorial framework, together with its governing norm.

Luckily Satan pointed out the Capital letter emphasis in your original question, and I am now beginning to see where you are coming from. You are worried and confused because of what that smooth faced man has been saying on the Television again. You are concerned that anything French will be kicked out of the country and the supply of tuna and charcoal biscuits will be reserved solely for British Bulldogs. 

Unfortunately Bruce, I have to tell you that your fears are not entirely without foundation. There are people in this country who hate all things foreign. They are mainly in the Tory or UKIP parties or in some cases behind wire in high security settings. 

They can be categorised existentially as suffering from dread and alienation.They are indeed absurd and are devotees of nothingness. Their version of freedom and commitment truly represents flight from “the iron cage” of reason.

Luckily you were bred and born in Ferrybridge and, whatever happens, will remain fully entitled to the tuna of Old England.

Bruce's Festive Quiz

Bruce’s Festive Quiz

Christmas and the New Year have been a troubling time for Bruce. He has sought out his therapist for a little quiz session.

What is a hangover?

A hangover is brought on by overindulgence, Bruce. The Mommy and Satan report that upon return from your Holiday Camp they became aware that you might have been guilty of this over Christmas. Lying unconscious on the sofa snoring so loudly that the TV cannot be heard is a manifestation of overindulgence. It is commonplace at this time of year and normally no great cause for anxiety. However the image depicting you thus prostrate, is disturbing. Clearly the depth of your stupor is so great that you have abandoned all restraint. It is in this context that you may have heard the term ‘hangover’.

Does my bum look big in this?

Another image, again kindly supplied by The Mommy, depicts you in your new coat. The Mommy is very content that it has an internal fleece lining to keep you warm as well as a waterproof outer shell to keep you dry. I understand you are concerned about the style and wonder whether it flatters you sufficiently and manages to hide some of the stouter elements of your conformation. Vanity is not an attractive character trait, Bruce. Not for the last time I fear I rather side with Satan who declares that all dogs wearing coats look like complete prats. He points out that in any case you don’t go out when it is wet, unless it is to pee in the garden and then there is no time to put on a coat as he urges you to the door with his toe. The waterproof shell is therefore redundant.

Do not all the Teddys belong to me?

Now, Bruce, we have mentioned in earlier sessions that there has occurred a cataclysmic change in your circumstance, namely the arrival of a grandchild. You appear oblivious to this. I am informed that upon Satan returning from shopping, he found one of Blake’s precious Teddys lying on the hallway floor. It was slightly damp and had been molested. You had purloined it from a sofa in the front room where it was awaiting the return of the angel child. I cannot impress upon you too strongly the thin nature of the ice upon which you tread. Your world has changed and you need to adapt your behaviour. 

You may have heard that the Masai in Kenya have a tribal belief that all cattle in the world belong to them. You may be labouring under the illusion that this applies to you and Teddys. The Masai belief has led to violent misunderstandings and great grief for a noble people. However this will seem to you as a minor misfortune compared to the doom that will fall upon your head should you persist in an erroneous belief about the ownership of Teddys not specifically allocated to you and placed in your bed by The Mommy.