“Hello.”

“Aussie, how did you figure out WhatsApp?”

“What’s up?”

“It’s an interesting thing, Auss. I walked across a stone hallway in the Toledo hotel where we’re staying, down an alley from the magnificent Toledo Cathedral, and stopped in my tracks.”

“You left tracks on a stone floor?”

“In front of me, Aussie, hanging on the wall, was an embroidery showing Hebrew writing used in old synagogues. I could make out the words.”

“What are you eating?”

“The great Toledo Cathedral was built on top of a mosque. Toledo boasts of its multiple religious traditions: Catholicism, Islam, and Judaism. Tourist shops sell tiles with the symbols of all three and guides point out the different influences in art and architecture.”

“Can we talk about more serious things? What are you eating?”

“Today we ate patatas bravas, fried potatoes in a nice sauce, and seafood paella. The other day I had a variation of prosciutto, which is a big dish here.”

“OMG, I LOVE prosciutto!”

“Aussie, Toledo presents itself as the integration of all these influences, and you’d have to know some history of how these traditions came together, then were persecuted, sent away, or massacred. What is now presented as beautiful co-existence tells you little of the wars with the Moors or the painful expulsion of the Jews and the brutalities of the Inquisition.”

“Are you bringing some prosciutto home?”

“As I stood staring at the embroidery on the wall, I thought of the narratives that we create, including our tendency to view now as the only moment that counts, as if there’s no more history, no more unfolding. I thought of how a Museum of Tolerance is built in Jerusalem atop what served as a Muslim cemetery. In some not-so-distant future, after all the land grabs, annexations, and oppression, Israel will bill itself as a country where Islam and Judaism beautifully meet. We like to put the sheen on things that happened long ago. Certain states back home are limiting what can be taught in schools about slavery and what we did to the Native Americans.”

“TELL ME ABOUT THE FOOD!”

“We ate twice in a terrific vegetarian restaurant.”

“You ate vegetarian food in Spain?”

“Why are you always thinking about food, Aussie?”

“Because I’m a dog. I’m a sensible dog. And speaking of how cultures came together, what about our cultures?”

“Huh?”

“Your human culture and my canine culture. When I first came, were we equal? Did you respect me? Don’t touch my shoes. Get off the couch. Don’t chase that squirrel. Don’t eat that squirrel. I was oppressed! I was belittled! Nobody bothered to understand me, my culture or my values. I had to do all the adapting.”

“Wait a minute, Auss. Who got you food?”

“You call that food?”

“Who made sure you had a big back yard in which to run?”

“Who built a fence? You call that running? I don’t get past first gear. Who put me inside a reservation? Who stops me from chasing deer, which are my natural food source?”

“Come on, Auss, our home has fostered a sweet cross-species culture. I’ve learned from you, you’ve learned from me, all’s well.”

“It was painful. You took away my blanket, you made me eat in the laundry room. It was one big trail of tears—and you call it nice.”

“You know, Auss, people were burned at the stake in some of these beautiful plazas.”

“Steak? Now you’re talking. Bring home some steak and don’t eat any more vegetarian food.”

“It was terrific, Aussie. I had this orange pumpkin soup with pumpkin seeds, small breadcrumbs and a little brie, avocado sushi, and a little—”

“I’m hanging up now. Buenas noches.”