The Dog

If the dog is chasing the dog, how many dogs are there?

Most would say two. Some would say at least two, but who knows how many more are watching? A few, smugly, would answer only one. And they would be wrong.

Because if the dog most dogs love to chase the most is, indeed, themselves, in a way, every dog chasing its tail is the same dog. Not just a dog, mind, but the Dog. The Ur-Dog. The Good Boy. Or Girl. Not that it matters, because tails don’t care about such things. 

It’s the same dog across every corner of existence, from the scrappy mongrel in Ankh-Morpork chasing itself down an alley, to the sleek hunting hound on the plains of Klatch spinning in dignified circles, and even the ethereal pup wagging its way through some long-forgotten pantheon. The tail-chasing archetype that exists everywhere and everywhen.

When a mutt in Ankh-Morpork spins in a circle after its tail, and a shaggy sheepdog on some faraway hill does the same, they’re not different dogs at all. They’re part of the Story.  A tale as old as dog. And stories, as everyone knows, have a way of becoming true—and if there’s one story dogs know how to tell, it’s this one:

“Run. Chase. Circle.” Never quite catch it, but always believe you’re about to.

As stories go, this one’s simple: the Dog chases the Tail. Not to win, because that’s not the point. The point is the joy in the chase, the eternal dance of movement, of trying, of believing there’s always something just ahead worth reaching for. And because it’s one of the simplest, it’s also one of the strongest. Stories like this don’t need much to keep going—just a dog, or whatever passes for a dog in these parts, and the slightest hint of a tail. It’s the sort of story that can repeat itself forever, weaving through time and space, spreading wherever there’s room for a wag and a spin. And there’s always room for that.

“It’s what makes a dog a dog,” Granny Weatherwax would say, if anyone asked, which they wouldn’t. “They’re all part of the same big idea. Same story. Same tail. And that’s how the universe keeps moving, in’t it? Bit silly to think you’d ever want it to stop.”

“That’s the thing about dogs,” Nanny Ogg might say, nursing her third mug of beer and scritching Greebo behind the ears despite his obvious distaste. “They’ve got the right idea. Doesn’t matter if they get there or not. They’re happy just going ’round.”

Granny Weatherwax would snort, but she wouldn’t argue. Because if there’s one thing even a witch knows, it’s that sometimes, the Dog is wiser than we’ll ever be.

So, if you ever see a dog chasing its tail, don’t be fooled into thinking it’s just a dog. That’s every dog, past, present, and future. The One Dog. And if you ask the dog, it wouldn’t mind being that at all.

If you've enjoyed this, and haven’t yet read any of Terry Pratchett's books, then you really ought to give them a try.