Dogs like to be dogs

I can tell by the way they bark.
And ants like being ants.
I've never heard them say that,
but inductive reasoning tells us it is so.
If they hated themselves so much,
they'd find the pesticide in the shed, wouldn't they?
Or if stuffing foodstuff into the Queen's fat mandibles
for all their blasted ant mortality wasn't their cup of tea,
they'd find a dandelion to sit under,
meditate, and eventually become a butterfly.
Thus we can conclude that all those workers
down at Fatty's All-You-Can-Eat Buffet
won't emerge from their workaday cocoons any time soon.
They aren't in cocoons; they are humans,
and humans have no cocoons from which to emerge.
Let's all go to Fatty's. My treat.