Moral kidnapping

Pierre, the French Bulldog, stood proudly in the kitchen, his tail wagging with excitement. Tonight was special—he had spent hours crafting the perfect meal for Coco, his beloved Chihuahua. He wanted to surprise her with a fusion of their cultures: French escargots inside crispy Mexican tacos.

"Bonjour, honey! I made some French-Mexican food for you!" he announced with a proud grin, pushing the plate toward her.

Coco’s ears perked up. Tacos? That was sweet of him! But as she stepped closer, her eyes locked onto the filling.

Snails. In tacos.

"Snail tacos?! No!!" she blurted out, stepping back as if they might crawl onto her.

Pierre’s face fell. “But… I spent hours making this. I did it for you!”

Coco hesitated. She could see the expectation in his eyes, the silent plea for approval. He wasn’t just offering food—he was offering his effort, his time, his heart. And if she rejected the meal, was she rejecting him too?

"Pierre, did you make this for me? Or for yourself?" she asked gently.

Pierre got a bit mad. “What do you mean? Of course, it’s for you!”

Coco sighed. “If it were for me, you would’ve thought about what I like. But this… this is what you wanted to give me, not what I wanted to receive.”

Pierre opened his mouth, then closed it. He hadn’t considered asking what would actually make her happy.

She softened, nudging him playfully. “I love that you put in effort, really. But love isn’t about forcing someone to appreciate something just because you worked hard on it. It’s about understanding them first.”

Pierre sighed, “I see… I assumed that what I thought was good, others should think the same way.”

Coco grinned. “Exactly. If others don’t, you will get disappointed or even mad. Now, how about we make something together? Something we both enjoy?”

Pierre’s tail wagged again, this time without expectation. “How about quesadillas? But with a little French cheese, oui?”

Coco laughed. “Now you’re getting it.”