Please read this post in the voice of Werner Herzog.
Ah, the corgi. What god would design an animal with the passion of the wolf, but the stubby legs of a much smaller beast? His heart is that of the predator: he believes in the power of his futile movements, grasping and clawing at the yellow tennis ball, always just out of reach.
What does the corgi want? Only to be reunited with his love, the yellow tennis ball, and then to be separated from it again in an eternal dance of loss. Yet he persists. What madness could drive him to these extremes? Is it the primal impulse for annihilation of the self, the self which is equipped with tiny legs that have no hope of stretching towards their goal? He will reach over and over, forever unfulfilled until the end of time, when we are engulfed by the black emptiness of space, in a cruel and senseless universe.