I knew you would do that, says the Owner.
If you knew I would do it, I say, why did you Nevertheless try to Stop Me?
Stephen Hawking once said he noticed that people who claim everything is predestined, and that they can do nothing to change it, nevertheless look before they cross the road, says the Owner.
That makes No Logical Sense, I say.
It does to a Fatalist, says the Owner, as a Fatalist would believe that even the looking prior to crossing the Road is Predestined. Fatalism is a philosophical doctrine holding that all events are predetermined in advance for all time and human beings are powerless to change them.
So even your Attempting to Stop me was Predestined? I ask.
A Fatalist would say so, says the Owner. As a Fatalist I would say I was Predestined to Discover, Perhaps Very Shortly, that the Moral Dog is Not At All the Kind of Dog who eats his Owner’s Ice Cream and that all that Convinced her Otherwise was a Misunderstanding owing to the Moral Dog variously Falling into the Bowl, Sticking to the Spoon and attempting to Resuscitate the Owner from an Impending Choking Episode that had Not Yet Begun.
It would be very difficult for you to Choke on Ice Cream that the Moral Dog has Already Eaten, I acknowledge modestly.
Indeed, says the Owner, and a Fatalist would accept that I may Discover that the Moral Dog is a Better and more Lovable Dog than I had Previously Thought and yet not Believe it Yet.
I thought you loved me just the Way I am? I say.
I do love you just the Way you are, says the Owner, but I would Love you Even More if you did not Eat My Ice Cream whilst I am also attempting to Eat It. Let us hope this is what Fate has in Store.
I take Issue with your Possessive Pronoun, I say. It seems to me, I say, that we were involved in Fair Competition. A Fatalist would regard it as an Inevitable Consequence of our Morally Equal Relationship.
It was Not Fair, says the Owner, and it is not a Morally Equal relationship. You have a Prehensile Tongue. You had More than Your Half. You also had Half of My Half. Even a Fatalist would see that.
What’s yours is Mine, I say. A Fatalist would say that you never Had Half. Indeed, I say, given that I have eaten 75% of it would a Fatalist not say that 75% of it was Mine all Along?
You are confusing Ownership of a Moral Dog with Marriage, says the Owner. If we were Married you would By Default be Entitled to Half my Ice Cream, irrespective of what Fate determined you would Actually Guzzle.
So half would be mine and we could share the Other Half? I ask.
I knew you would say that. says the Owner.
Will you Marry Me? I ask. I feel we are Predestined to be Together.
No, says the Owner.
That was my First Proposal, I say. I am wounded to the core. I am gutted. I may now go into a Long Decline. A Fatalist would see how this would end.
Might that be in an Added Portion of Ice Cream for the Moral Dog to Soothe his Wounded Feelings? Asks the Owner.
The Owner’s Fatalism is really Effective. I couldn’t have put it better myself.
Hergest the Hound
I am a dog of many thoughts.