Who is complaining loudly because I was walking past him with a cookie for the donkeys, and had not stopped to give him one. Murray is utterly useless, as far as I can see, serving no purpose of any kind other than annoying me, chewing through cables and wires, escaping for no reason other than to make me run around, and eating up a lot of hay. Still, it is hard to imagine the place without his running commentary. Like the Greek Chorus of ancient times,  his real function is to remind me that I am ridiculous, and ought not to think highly of myself.