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July 21st. The bargain.

What is that Floating in your soup? I ask the Owner.

I do not know What You Mean, says the Owner, looking shiftier than a Squirrel at a Picnic .

I think you do, I say. I think it is Cheese, I say.

How can you Possible know that? Asks the Owner.

I am a Dog, I say. I do not need to see Cheese to Know that it is There, I say. I have a Vomeronasal Organ specifically evolved for the detection of Cheese, I say.

Goodness Me the Moral Dog is Right, says the Owner, there does indeed seem to be Cheese in my Soup.

Did it Get In By Itself? I ask, or was it Pushed.

I must have put it there without my noticing, says the Owner. Sometimes, says the Owner, we appreciate things more if they Take us by Surprise. Cheese is nice in Soup. But Surprise Cheese is even better.

You mean, I say, that you Deliberately Forgot that you had Put the Cheese in the Soup?

Exactly, says the Owner.

So, I say, it was not a Slippery Eelish attempt to Conceal the Cheese Apportionage from the Moral Dog and thus convince him that he had in Fact received his Twenty Percent share, I say.

Of course I would not Conceal Cheese from the Moral Dog, says the Owner. Five percent, says the Owner.

I am due a Raise, I say. I am a Growing Dog, I say. Ten Percent, I say.

The Only Parts of the Moral Dog that are still growing, says the Owner, are the Parts that are already, frankly, Large Enough. And I will personally make sure that his Evening Portion takes account of the Meagre Additional Portion of Cheese Hidden in my Soup, says the Owner. Six Percent, says the Owner.

It is not that Meagre, I say. It is a whole Mozzarella, I say. Does the Man not say that the Floating of Cheese in Soup is a somewhat Indelicate Habit? I say. Nine Percent, I say.

The Man does not Need to Know, says the Owner. Seven and a Half Percent, says the Owner.

Very Well, I say, although at such a Low Cheese Reimbursement Level the Man may be able to tell from the Moral Dog’s woeful and Cheese deprived Expression, I say.

You wouldn’t, says the Owner.

Not Deliberately, I say. Hark, I say. Is that him just coming to Join You for Lunch? I say.

Ten Percent, says the Owner. Go and Play with Squeaky Bird and stop Staring at my Bowl.

It’s a deal, I say. The Moral Dog’s Growing Parts are Greatly Relieved, I say.

The Moral Dog is a Slippery Eel, says the Owner.

It takes One to Know One.

Categories: cheese dignity dog dog philosophy

Hergest the Hound

I am a dog of many thoughts.

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