But . . . is there a consciousness? I expect that you sometimes doubt it. I know that I do. We pay lip service to the idea that we’re all aware, and that each one of us personifies the centre of his or her universe, but that’s hard to reconcile with the way most peasants conduct their drudgery. When you look into their eyes, you can’t believe there’s someone at home. Is it any wonder that sometimes you feel as if you are an extra-terrestrial abandoned on an alien world?
You’ll recognize the spectre of a conspiracy starting to bestir itself (see how I came to dream it up?). But just hang fast, me hearties, onto the one fact that if anything at all exists, then, by definition, so does Dog. You’re sure that you at least exist, don’t you? Well, there you go then.