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A fox terrier is barking at the sea. To dogs, his words might have exact meaning depending on their breed and dialect. It is for them that the dog barks; always; even in his most intimate dealings with Humans, he vocalises for the large pack he fantasises -- from our point of view -- the pack which shall be when the world's made right. Some canine thought will not translate that well and seems to us flaccid, like a beach ball that has been punctured by sharp teeth; or dull, like something which one hopes will move, but won't. Nevertheless, I'll try to give the gist. He sings: Oh big area of drab water, I mistrust you. Why do you keep moving? I'm warning you! Be still and let me bite. Ocean, if that's what you are – I doubt it – don't be cowardly. Be still. I may attack. Look at the mess you have made. Pathetic. Is that the best you can do? Disorder? I've seen more chaos in my feeding bowl. Just because there's a lot of you, you know... I'm still warning you! I shall break contact. I shall come back, when I am free, and piss and I shall for a night and for a day until you are polluted and ashamed I will chew you into such little ponds that you will not be coordinated and my friends will come and drink all of you I'm warning you. I don't like your size here Go away now and come back much smaller. I'm warning you. I'm warning you. Stop it.