Warning: This post is disgusting.
[tweetmeme source=”elizabethev” only_single=false]There are a few things I never imagined I’d do in my life. Like cook a lobster (and you know, kill it in a pot of boiling water). Or purchase a bag of lamb’s ears, duck feet, and pig skin rolls. On purpose. For my dog. Without vomiting.
The Pawsitive Dog hosted a “treat party” for clients looking to stock up on nutritious (and, allegedly, delicious) treats for their dogs. I am so glad we opted for the small bag, as we now have what is–in reality–a very large bag of animal parts hidden in our cabinet. We spent about twenty minutes picking from a selection of gullets, tracheas, bladders and feet– the sorts of things that don’t often make it to human dining tables, but are very much edible for animals.
I nearly fainted six times, and had to keep the exit in plain view, lest I need to make a quick escape. There was a time when I bought things for Clark thinking they were just cutely named.
Oh, wow. That really looks like a pig’s snout. How quaint!
Get a clue, lady. If it looks like a pig’s snout, is labeled “pig’s snout,” and is being sold in a pet store… it’s likely a pig’s snout. Once, one of the friendly people at B.Y.O.D. asked if Clark liked tripe. I replied, “Oh yes, he looooves fish.” It wasn’t until I got home and Googled tripe, that I understood why the woman looked at me like I had two heads. She gave him a giant hunk of dehydrated tripe (also known as the first three stomachs of a cow), right around the same time I smelled something so foul that I feared I might expire. I threw my money on the counter and darted out of the store like hell on wheels. Or whatever that expression is.
Clark happily chewed his tripe the whole way to the car, hopped in his crate and we were on our way. It took me about 12 seconds of being in the car, with the windows up to realize that the tripe was very much the source of that God forsaken smell. I reached through the crate, grabbed that slimy thing from Clark’s mouth and threw it out the window. While driving (at least I wasn’t texting). Please consider this my formal apology to anyone on E. Broadway on May 13th who may have been hit with a tripe. I am sorry.
After 29 years (welp, now you know how young and sprightly I am) of not eating meat, I really though the day I bought a cow’s tail would never come. But it did. Last Wednesday. Since then, I have pulled a duck’s toenail from Clark’s bed, cleaned up the aftermath of a lamb’s ear and paced the hallways of our condo building wondering if I might die. Or at the very least, be kicked off the Boston Vegetarian Society listserv. Seriously, my life has become a vegetarian’s nightmare. Oh, the things we will do for the people and puppies we love.
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