Today I had a conversation with a soldier that went like this...
Soldier (with hungry eyes on Sophie - like she was a hot little biscuit): Your dog. Can I have it?
Me: No. Absolutely Not.
Soldier (points at Sophie's wiggly rear end): That is good meat.
Me: Meat?! No. She is family. I love her.
Soldier: Mmmm, good meat. Good to cook with a side of tomatoes.
Me: Tomatoes?! NO! Absolutely not! No!
Now, I get it. The soldiers probably barely eat and rarely get paid on time and are undoubtedly always hungry. It's not that I don't have sympathy for their situation. But, nonetheless, if they ever come close to Sophie or if I so much as see one small tomato in their possession headed our way, it will be on. Like Tasmanian devil, fists of fury, take-no-prisoners on. So there.
And poor silly Sophie has no clue of any impending danger. So much for doggy sense. If I'd let her, she would sashay up to the soldiers, without a care in the world, in hopes for a belly rub. What a doofus.