the most pressing concern

I tried convincing someone to like my dog more the other day. I mean, he likes him fine, but he doesn't seem to share the same excessive, magnetic draw towards him that I have. "Isn't he beautiful?", I said. "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say 'beautiful'. He's definitely a fine looking dog..."

I told my dad about this little exchange. He paused for a breath, and then said, "Well, think about what he's built for—for rescuing fisherman and the like from the icy waters of Novascotia. He's perfectly suited to it. And in so far as perfect adaptation—the ideal melding of form and function—is really what beauty is, yeah—he's quite beautiful."

I was listening to a book-on-iPod this morning. It's good. A little stuffed with uncomfortable cliches. (Reminds me of my ex-boyfriend, but not the way that sounds.) Anyway, at one point this mistress says to the married man she's just slept with, "Talent is more erotic when it's wasted." It sounds good, doesn't it? (And then she goes on about how he's drawn towards Mark Rothko because of the inherent intensity of the intangible.)

But where does this leave us in terms of the relationship between beauty and eroticism?