A critique of a moment in a dog's life

there is a day in a dogs life when it is faced with the ultimate decision of whether to get the meat he needs from the fridge or to go out as so many of his ancestors did in ages gone by and step out into the wild and kill for a living. Of course stepping beyond the doggy bowl is a tough decision. Once you have convinced your masters to slave on you and feed you when you want, you can consider your species to be doing pretty well, were it not for the fact that you just can't do that wild shit anymore... I mean what the fuck?