The Owner says I shouldn’t have eaten it. I’m inclined to agree. It didn’t taste of much and, to make it worse, she says I may have caused a typhoon in Texas.
I am familiar with chaos theory, the idea that extremely small changes in nonlinear systems can produce enormous effects distally in both time and space that can only be described fully in retrospect. I am not convinced, however, that this particular butterfly had the kind of flap-power necessary, it being already deceased.
She says that’s not the point. The typhoon in Texas is a metaphor and what she’s really suggesting is that eating things when I don’t know what they are can lead to unforeseen consequences with magnitude considerably greater than the original act seemed to predict. Remember the day your dinner came back, Hergest, she says.
I point out that the only way to discover what I should and shouldn’t eat is to eat it.
She says there is another way. I could listen to her.
I say the whole point of being a Moral Dog is to apply my own reason to such judgments. Does she want a Moral Dog who simply Does What He is Told Without Question?
Do you know, she says, that sounds fantastic. Do you know any Moral Dogs like that?
Certainly not, I say.
She says it was a rhetorical question.
I say I knew that but rhetorical questions are the Moral Equivalent of a blow below the belt. That’s why I answered it.
Fine, she says. Eat all the butterflies you like.
I say I can’t believe she would say such a thing. She has friends in Texas.
She says Aaaargh.
The Moral Dog. Wins every time.
Hergest the Hound
I am a dog of many thoughts.