"You're eating Spelunker"

NOTE: I realize the above image only slightly pertains to this post, but is funny nonetheless so enjoy.

Some of you may have noticed Sarah's blog post named "Sacrificial Calf." I would like to make it clear that she stole the idea from me. She did a pretty good job of describing the situation, however, so I can't be too irritated with her.

As Sarah mentioned, our parents used to lie to us about the fates of our bum calves, telling us they would be taken care of by people who loved them and would end their days in green pastures, eating grass and clover, under the sun...and numerous other fanciful yet untruthful aspects of the last days of our beloved pets. I don't remember the specific time that Dad informed us we were eating our pet because I am sure I psychologically blocked the occurrence out.

I do remember, however, being particularly close to one steer, which we named Spelunker. There is photographic evidence of me petting and kissing this steer on the nose. Spelunker was not a bum calf but was a "fat," which is the name we assign bovine that we decide we are going to fatten up to eat. I was not lied to about what was going to happen to these animals, but I grew quite attached to Spelunker in particular and was devastated when Mom and Dad decided the day had come for him to be butchered. I even considered becoming a vegetarian when this happened to avoid eating my pet. In realizing I could not handle being a vegetarian, I requested that the packages holding the steer be marked specially so I could be sure not to partake. Mom and Dad did not oblige, not because they did not want to, but because they forgot. One night, quite possibly during my birthday dinner, I asked what animal they thought we were eating. Telling glances were exchanged between my parents, at which time I am pretty sure I burst into tears.

I would consider it a mythological experience for a child to find out she is eating her friend, even if it is just an animal. I guess I could thank Mom and Dad for helping me learn to deal with death, but feeding me the remains of my pet seems a little over the top. I guess it is all part of the rancher lifestyle.