There are some things that can’t be adequately described in words: they have to be experienced. There’s sex, there’s skydiving, there’s the House on the Rock, and there’s Doggy Poo.

Doggy Poo is the title of a 1968 children’s book by Japanese-Korean author Kwon Jung-saeng. In 2003, the book was adapted into a stop-motion animation film—yes, for children—that I just experienced last weekend.

Where to begin? Well, the first thing you need to know is that Doggy Poo is not a joke. It’s a very serious little meditation on the short life of an anthropomorphized doggy poo. The cruel trick played on little Doggy Poo, though, is that he’s only been partially anthropomorphized: he has a face and a voice and consciousness, but, like all doggy poos, he is immobile. Unsurprisingly, he uses his adorable little poo face to do a lot of crying.

At the story’s outset, our hero is deposited on a country road by a dog, and no sooner has he become aware of his own existence—oohing and aahing at the beautiful sky—he realizes that he’s a doggy poo. He can’t move, and he’ll have only a short life before he decomposes. While he lives, he’ll be constantly insulted. Did I mention that this is a movie for kids?

The story raises a host of ontological questions, especially when a dirt-clod character is introduced: the dirt clod fondly remembers his life nurturing plants on a farm, and having fallen off a cart, fears for his death in the form of disintegration. How big must a dirt clod be, in the world of Doggy Poo, to be sentient?

But never mind that. More interestingly, the message of Doggy Poo is completely contrary to the message of most American children’s entertainment. Here, we like to tell kids that if they work hard and treat others well, they’ll be rewarded with fame and glory. Think Horatio Alger, think Annie, think Emmett Otter’s Jugband Christmas. Even if you’re born into humble circumstances, the message goes, you can and should strive for your just rewards among the stars.

Doggy Poo, however, will never be a star. At no point in Doggy Poo is there ever any possibility that Doggy Poo will be anything other than doggy poo. He won’t move, he won’t be loved, he won’t win a longer life. In the end, Doggy Poo comes to terms with his nature and happily offers himself as fertilizer, thus fulfilling his shitty telos.

The message? Don’t seek to rise above your station. Be happy where you are, in the knowledge that your existence is quietly facilitating a larger greatness that will never be directly or personally associated with you. It’s collectivism at its purest. A philosophy to emulate…or a pile of poo? However you feel, you have to admit that it’s the cutest goddamn pile of poo you’ve ever seen.

– Jay Gabler