During one of Jack the Bulldog’s routine morning walks, he waddled into a fellow
bulldog who gave him a sense of foreboding gloom. While exchanging the customary posterior
sniffs, Jack realized what was so off-putting. He was smelling the anus of more youthful version
of himself. Jack used to feel he was in his prime, and had never really pondered his own
mortality until he came face to butt with his own successor.
The Heckler reached out for comment but all we received back was a series of forlorn
sounding growls and ‘bow-wows’. The Georgetown Linguistics Department refused to translate
Jack’s words. In a tear-stained letter to The Heckler, a representative of the department wrote,
“These words are truly not fit to print. There is such great sadness.”
As far as we can tell, Jack the Bulldog will keep up public appearances and continue to
devoutly support his favorite sports team, The Hoyas. His morning walks will still be met with
countless enamored students eager to pet him. Only now, while being pet, he will be thinking
about that juvenile Jack who will take his place when the time comes. When showering Jack
with love, please just be weary that under the facade of wrinkles and cuteness, there is a deep
existential dread.