I was conversing with my cat just now, I, her hulking, well-intentioned pet and she, my barely willing companion, and my mind wandered through my inane parroting of her varied meows and ran smack into the question of sentience. What is it? I think it's safe to say nearly all pet owners think of their animals as variations of people, but aren't they, in essence? Nearly all living things have feelings and sensations that exist outside of pure basic needs; if the mollusks in my fifth grade ISC class could have enough of a sense of fun to ride the mini waterfall for no other reason than the mollusk equivalent of an adrenaline rush, I believe anything can. But what makes a thing sentient? Is it language capabilities? People have been teaching gorillas sign language for decades, but they are still considered zoo-quality animals. Is it the ability to wonder about the world? Do gorillas ask "why?" There doesn't seem to be much evidence that they do, but how many people ask "why?" There is statistical evidence that the average person will follow whichever authority figure is the most authoritative, regardless of what he or she may stand for. Are we just that arrogant to assume that we are the definition of sentience and that's all there is to it? I'd venture to say yes. It's taken this long in our history as humans for some of the world to accept the rest of the human race as sentient. I don't know. These are things I mull over while I'm meowing at my cat.

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