The dog paradox is this. Sometimes you meet a family who have a wonderful pet dog.

The family invariably say: “Oh he doesn’t think he’s a dog. He’s pretty sure he’s a human!” And everyone laughs. It's all Very Cute™.

But, when you stagger away from this odd family, a creeping realisation begins to dawn upon you. Inch by inch, the terribleness of the predicament crawls its way along your spine.

How? you ask, How can any of us be sure, absolutely sure, that we too are not just a dog, a family pet, who thinks they are human?

How can we be more confident than Rover, or Fido, or Ripper or whatever the pooch’s name might be?

You can laugh all you want. But no one on this planet has a truly satisfying answer to the dog paradox.

I've criss-crossed the planet, putting this conundrum before every noted philosopher alive today. They simply pat my head, smile warmly and say “Good boy! Who's a clever boy? Who's a good boy? You are! You are!”

See also

• Paradox