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Sunday, February 01, 2004

Mmmmm... Pork Butt

This morning, Fisher pulled out the two pork butts he had been slow smoking in the Big Green Egg for the past 20 hours and carried them to his kitchen downstairs. When the odor of roasted pork began to seep up through our floorboards like savoury radon, it dawned on Billy and Spoon what Fisher's kitchen was harboring. Billy began performing a frenzied location dance for us, while Spoon did a lot of bratty foot stamping and squawking until I took them downstairs to pay Fisher a visit. Fisher carved them a little bowl of gristle and fat and they spent the rest of the afternoon splayed out on the couch in a pork coma.

By the way, for those of you who don't know, Spoon and Billy are dogs.

I want to make that clarification because I received a complaint from an upset reader friend after she read my entry on MLK day. She didn't realize that Spoon was a dog and thought that I was monster because I seemed so callously fatalistic about the deaths of what she thought were children. The reverse chronological format of the blog added to her confusion and it took her a moment to realize I was writing about puppies. She was so shaken up that she almost had to end a conference call with a client. I apologize if anybody else made that mistake.

To prevent confusion of that sort my great-grandmother would not allow family pets or animals of any kind to be named after people. One day she had received a frantic phone call from one of the farmer workers at my great grandfather's farm. The farm employee shouted into the phone, "Mr. Baldwin (my great-grandfather's business partner), he's not well! He's laying in the field, foaming at the mouth. His eyes - they're rolled back in his head. All you can see is the whites. Please hurry!"

My great-grandmother wasn't able to reach my great-grandfather, and thinking time was of the essence, she sped in her car all the way out to the farm so she could put Mr. Baldwin in the car and rush him to the hospital. When she arrived she was led to Mr. Baldwin, but Mr. Baldwin the bull, not my grand-father's business partner. My great-grandfather had humorously named his bull after his business partner, but my great-grandmother did not know this. Well, my great-grandmother failed to see the humor after that incident and issued a family edict prohibiting the naming of animals after people from then on.

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