The little dog-thing happily wags its stump of a tail and begins snuffling around Faraday's hand.

"I'm not exactly a pets kinda girl. Plus, it clearly likes you better, see?" she points at it. It mouths his hand and wrist, testing to see if he's carrying any food, but doesn't bite down. No, this is clearly a Food Bringer, not a Food.

It gives him a sad whuffling whimper, as if it hasn't eaten half her lunch.