My friend Steve wants everyone, including you my friend, to know that he has achieved yet another victory. For the 3415th time in sixteen years he has managed to pry a seafood meal from this guy with whom he lives. The repast was delicious, of course, with its ocean whitefish and tuna contents. As he has done so many times on prior occasions, Steve wandered to the bowls of the other cats in our domicile and inspected the scent, consistency and amount portioned to each animal. Today's portions are, while unbelievably delicious, also the same as they were two hours ago: small, yet meaty. The issue at hand that bothers him is the endless repetition of the same kind and portion of food. Steve wonders at the absurdity of desiring and receiving the same basic foodstuffs that he has taken for the duration of his life. He is growing old and he finds that perhaps the chicken and liver dinner and the seafood delight may not bring the same rapture as they once did, and this state of affairs both troubles and calms him. His question is one of meaning: is the pursuit of cat food - if it is endlessly the same repetition of seemingly absurd and potentially meaningless yet delicious ritual of pure necessity driven hard into the unknown and careless future by pitiless Fate and somatic need - the true goal of all his efforts?
It is a question that may plague him for the remainder of his days, but until he has solved this riddle, Steve will proceed as he always has, food in mouth.
"Carry on," he says.