Food comments are hard to stomach

The last time she and I crossed swords, as I recall, it was over this issue. She still seems to have difficulty coming to terms with facts as they relate to my well-rounded diet. Her crack about “teeny, weeny little canines” was good for a chortle over my delicious bacon buttie and cup of Earl Grey this morning, but little more than that.
Proof of my being a carnivore? There is no way of establishing that either way, other than the usual, as she well knows. Therefore: an empty gesture on her part; it cuts no ice with me – or, meat for that matter. I eat the stuff almost every day, therefore I am a carnivore. Live with it. You eat what you like, mind your own business, and I will happily carry on devouring lovely, succulent flesh. Capiche?
“Proof” of animal intelligence, dear lady? “Well documented”? If you say so ... semantics, semantics, and not one scientific, irrefutable definition in sight. But, you will doubtless bang on about it until the farmer leads the cows home. Cogito ergo sum. That thing about plants at the end of my letter was intended to be satirical, by the way. 
Now I have made my position quite clear on this, and Miss Moxham’s admittedly well-meaning campaign will make not one scintilla of difference.
One final thought: I sat down to a juicy, mouth-watering leg of lamb with my brother last night; totally delicious and very well cooked seeing as he’s quite handy around the kitchen, although the young fella forgot the mint sauce! Damned inconsiderate! Chortle.
Dr Frank