It has no bones. I respect that it gets the job done, despite. I respect those suckers, too. How weird it must be me to suction cup around a mollusk and muscle it open. How weird to it that I use a fork. I like these juxtapositons, an octopus at the dining table, me, under sea, these tense questions, where we meet our fellow creatures and fail to feel superior.
What with my bellyaching, and meal planning, I would make a really awful octopus. But it, I think, can get itself out of complicated mazes and makes a decent human.