Sleeping with the Enemy

is an extremely distressing movie. And, based on the magnitude of my reaction at the crucial moment (I not only jumped, but shrieked - or as close to as I've ever gotten - and quivered for a prolonged period, and did not know what to do with myself), it must be about the scariest movie I've ever seen. I don't know if I ought to be embarrassed about that. I'll go with no.

So violently convulsive was my shock that Mack, the rascally 18-month-old Pointer in my charge who had thitherto been relatively indifferent towards me, got out of his bed, came over and quietly laid his head and front paws over my lap, and stayed there for some minutes. He was peculiarly affectionate and protective of me all evening. An interesting little development. I like dogs.

Thanks, Aristotle. Tharistotle.

On why the happy/excellent person, though self-sufficient, nonetheless benefits from friendship; and why self-interest and altruism amount to the same thing:

"If, then, for the blessedly happy person, being is choiceworthy, since it is naturally good and pleasant, and if the being of his friend is closely similar to his own, then the friend will also be choiceworthy.

...The excellent person is related to his friend in the same way he is related to himself, since a friend is another self; and therefore, just as his own being is choiceworthy for him, the friend's being is choiceworthy for him in the same or a similar way."

* * *

Thriends.