So are we having lunch, yet?

Yes, Bao. Here it comes. Tortilla soup for me, dog biscuits for you.

Lunch in the garden is a treat in the middle of January, when just about everybody else in the United States is snowed in. That -- as they say -- is what makes southern Arizona special. But even for Tucson, this is really extraordinary weather. Global warming? Bring it on. Although I suspect we'll be singing a different song in July, when we're frying eggs on the asphalt.

I've finally figured out how Bao can know what I'm having for dinner before I even get it out of the freezer. He reads my mind. Probably, he reads the smells in my mind. When I think of a grilled steak or a grilled chop, I get a mental picture of it but I also have a sense of how it's going to taste and smell, and I think that's what Bao is picking up. The sizzle, as it were.

I test this out. Bao is fast asleep at my feet. I try concentrating on chocolate. I concentrate on how it smells, and tastes, and almost instantly, Bao wakes up and looks expectantly at me. But since there isn't any chocolate, he promptly goes back to sleep. QED.