Dog stories, retold

There was a death in the family back home while I was gone, a dog-death, and I happened to mention this to a friend here the other week. She thought it would be appropriate to tell me her own dog-dying story, you know, sort of to comfort me. It was of the type, unexpected good things come from bad things. So she told me that she, too, had a dog die when she was a little girl. In fact, some neighbor came over and strangled her dog right in front of her when she was about eight years old. She and her sister screamed to her mother, "mom, stop him, he's killing out dog!" The mother stood off to the side, watching, and was like, "there, there, it'll be okay." The two girls cried and cried the whole afternoon - it was their pet dog, whom they loved, but it died right in front of them. So sad for two little girls.

Then dinner came around, and the mother had cooked the dog with the neighbor, and she had prepared the whole dog out on the table, organs all laid out, cooked and flavored. To comfort her, her mother took the kidney and gave it to her to eat. It was then that she realized that she really loved dog meat, and all the tears were gone from then on out. So the moral of the story is that, if you're creative enough, good things are hidden like gems among a sea of bad things. Or another could be: dog dies, eat it. I'm not sure if that'll comfort my relatives, but it's a start.

I opened the phone book, and looked up 'Restaurants' in order to get an idea of what kinds of places I could consider when going out to eat. Needless to say, the section titled 'RESTAURANTs - DOG MEAT' occupied a very significant place. I'm not very tempted to try it, I must admit. But I know that the time will come when I will, and I must eat it like a man. (Although sometimes, when these dogs across the street stay up all night howling and barking at the slightest sound of leaves rustling, I am tempted to go out with a grill, a baseball bat and some ketchup.)