This year, O Sky-Commander, it was my privilege to witness as the Earthlings selected their new king or empress.

I am not sure what to make of these creatures. Some possess great quantities of hair. Some possess almost none. Some consist entirely of hair and do not appear to be so-called “dogs” at all.

That they are the objects of veneration on this planet is beyond question. The hairless two-legged ones tend to their every whim. Each hair-beast is sequestered apart from most others of its kind and ministered to by one or more of the hairless uprights until the moment of judgment, during which seclusion it is addressed in a reverential high-pitched tone and given access to nutrition of all kinds.

They secrete a substance which is evidently much prized, as whenever they produced it, their attendants rushed to scoop it up, place it inside a small plastic sack, and to store it with other products of a similar kind. Could this be the unobtainium we have pursued across the galaxy?

I find myself struggling with the language — each attendant seems convinced that he or she understands exactly what these mighty abominations hope to convey, but each takes a different meaning from the same sound, making any progress difficult.

In any event, there is much color to be spotted here. The abominable and wondrous beasts gather and pass their judgments, and then the attendants approach to offer due homage. Whether, when crowned, they play a functional or merely a ceremonial role I have yet to determine.

Please wire instructions as to how I must approach the newly crowned ruler of this world.