'Raising our own food.' He explained how bad factory farms were and how he wanted us to understand the circle of life and respect animals. 'Like the Indians,” said Mrs. Beauchamp, catching on, “using every bit of the animal and thanking its spirit and all that?'
'We feed her and take care of her now, and she’ll feed and take care of us later.' Perfectly reasonable. 'So she can be part of the family now!'
'I stun her in the temple so she can’t feel a thing, then we hang her upside down. One clean cut to the jugular, and she bleeds out in less than a minute. It’ll be quick and peaceful.'...
Dad breathed a sigh. 'That was fast,' he congratulated the butcher. 'And painless. Thank you for your quick work.' I was as numb as if the butcher had stunned me, too...
'You’re welcome, of course,' said the butcher. 'I only do for them what I hope someone will do for me when it’s my time.'
There had been all that blood, gushing out of her throat and onto the floor in two streams. I dreamt about it over and over, and I asked a lot of questions about what happens when you die... He made a little toast to Meat and thanked her for her life and said we were glad to know her. Which was all true. After my first bite, with the tender flesh practically melting on my tongue, I thought Dad was right—something you raise yourself always tastes better.
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