This post by an old friend resonated with me today.
As an animal lover (we have three cats and two dogs — and that’s it!), I’ve often felt like a hypocrite for cooking beef, chicken or pork. I’ve never met a cow I didn’t like, and yet I’m all right with marinating a few small parts of one who died for the sake of my appetite. Everything tastes better with meat. I hate to say it, but although I enjoy veggie/legume meals a few times a week, I don’t know if I could ever get used to not eating meat.
About a month ago, Miklos’s dad went to slaughter a pig his friend had raised for him. He loves showing the pictures off to everyone, and to this day I will not look. He was raised doing it, and today he runs a business around meat — I could never condemn him for that.
What was strange was that I couldn’t stop myself from being upset at Miklos for going with him, for helping him, even if he promised he had no part in the actual killing. Meanwhile, his dad makes some wicked good sausage (and his beef jerky’s great too), so why am I complaining?
Well, probably because I met this pig once, for about 5 minutes. It was the ugliest thing, with the filthiest wiry hair. It looked awful, but so do a lot of really nice people. (HA!) Seriously. I knew this thing was living, breathing, could’ve lived a long time. And it didn’t get to. And I’m pretty sure I ate him, probably, without knowing.
It’s just funny the connections we can make with living things in a matter of moments. And it’s also kind of awful how some of us (me) despite this do not have the will power to cut meat products completely out of our lives.
Reading Holly’s post inspired me to write about my own experience — I don’t mean to be a copycat, but I felt it was something I never really mentioned and I needed to get off my chest. Don’t hurt me, Holly. I too am part-animal.
Have you ever had an experience like this? Do you eat meat?