Confusing the dog
It's very clear that there are some things where our theories of how the world works and Ista's theories just do not match up. Dogly personality matters a great deal here. With Honey (the dog we had when I was an older kid/teenager), my mom was the alpha of the pack, and anything my mom was eating that she was willing to give to Honey was food. Mom would break off tiny pieces of cauliflower or green bean or heaven knows what, and Honey would take them and eat them dutifully. She liked chicken tacos best, but if her alpha gave it to her from her hand at the table, it was by God food.
This...is not the case with Ista. And leads to such perplexing situations as lunch today. I am not, you will understand, a vegetarian; I just prefer their tasty, tasty food, so people confuse me for one. So on the table at lunch we had: a roast beef sandwich, cashews, edamame hummus, and a salad with broccoli, tomatoes, and bell pepper in. The first two were markgritter's. The latter two were mine.
Ista: You see, of course, that I am not jumping up and begging like a bad, bad dog. No! I am merely nudging your ankle with my cold, cold nose to remind you that there is a good, good dog here who smells nice food like roast beef and cashews, and who likes those things!
Me: Wah!
Ista: Nice dog here.
Me: Wah!
Ista: Nice dog here.
Me: This is what I am eating.
Ista: But--you are the alpha. And that is not-food. And I smell food.
Me: This is what I am eating.
Ista: Why would you be eating not-food when there is food? You are the alpha. You could make the others give you the food, and they could eat the not-food if they had to. Or you could get more food and nobody would have to eat not-food.
Mark: Ista, stop bothering Mrissa and come have a little piece of roast beef.
Ista: Oh! Thank you, Mark! That was lovely! Mrissa, nice dog here.
Me: Wah!
Mark: Ista, I have the roast beef.
Ista: It is food. And she is the alpha.
Me: Hummus, dog.
Ista: So not food! I do not need to be any closer to understand that this green goop is not food! And lo, I am sore confused! Perhaps if I apply my nose to your ankle, your edamame hummus will become roast beef.
Me: Not an alchemical nose.
Ista: It might be. Poodles don't care about gold anyway. Now, if you had a rock that turned not-food into roast beef. That would be a philosopher worth knowing about.
Me: I have my suspicions about several of the 19th century German ones on that very topic.
This...is not the case with Ista. And leads to such perplexing situations as lunch today. I am not, you will understand, a vegetarian; I just prefer their tasty, tasty food, so people confuse me for one. So on the table at lunch we had: a roast beef sandwich, cashews, edamame hummus, and a salad with broccoli, tomatoes, and bell pepper in. The first two were markgritter's. The latter two were mine.
Ista: You see, of course, that I am not jumping up and begging like a bad, bad dog. No! I am merely nudging your ankle with my cold, cold nose to remind you that there is a good, good dog here who smells nice food like roast beef and cashews, and who likes those things!
Me: Wah!
Ista: Nice dog here.
Me: Wah!
Ista: Nice dog here.
Me: This is what I am eating.
Ista: But--you are the alpha. And that is not-food. And I smell food.
Me: This is what I am eating.
Ista: Why would you be eating not-food when there is food? You are the alpha. You could make the others give you the food, and they could eat the not-food if they had to. Or you could get more food and nobody would have to eat not-food.
Mark: Ista, stop bothering Mrissa and come have a little piece of roast beef.
Ista: Oh! Thank you, Mark! That was lovely! Mrissa, nice dog here.
Me: Wah!
Mark: Ista, I have the roast beef.
Ista: It is food. And she is the alpha.
Me: Hummus, dog.
Ista: So not food! I do not need to be any closer to understand that this green goop is not food! And lo, I am sore confused! Perhaps if I apply my nose to your ankle, your edamame hummus will become roast beef.
Me: Not an alchemical nose.
Ista: It might be. Poodles don't care about gold anyway. Now, if you had a rock that turned not-food into roast beef. That would be a philosopher worth knowing about.
Me: I have my suspicions about several of the 19th century German ones on that very topic.