Thursday, October 12, 2006

Krazee Eyez Killah 

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It's a hard world for little things.

On a hike yesterday, Spoon pounced upon, viciously shook and snapped the neck of a small woodland creature. I suspect the little animal, some sort of mouse, was a little sluggish from the cold and had been busily putting the finishing touches on its winter stores. For whatever reason, it didn’t realize that Spoon was coming up on it. The only ameliorating factor was that she did such a thorough job I didn’t have to euthanize it with the heel of my hiking boot. While I was brooding and distracted Billy rolled in something especially rank - elk urine, perhaps? - and I had to drive home with the windows down, gagging and trying not to pass out behind the wheel.

This is the first scalp (pelt?) in Spoon’s belt. She has participated in some earthdog trials, an event whose goal is for the dog to find a caged rat at the end of an underground maze. Dogs are judged for their timing and the ferocity at which they bark at the rat. (No rats are ever harmed during these events). These trials really whipped up her bloodlust and ever since she participated we have had to spell the word “rat” around her. If she hears the word, even on the television, it sends her into a frenzy of screaming and pacing and whining. She could certainly never sit quietly through The Departed.

The situation really bummed me out. But, Border Terriers are ratters, after all, so I certainly can’t blame her for doing what she’s bred to do. Although I’ve made half hearted attempts, I’m no vegetarian. I’ve accepted the fact that I’m descended from greasy meat eaters and am genetically programmed to crave meat. When I do eat meat, however, I try to be respectful of the animal and mindful of the effects my diet has on the ecosystem. I never delude myself about the suffering that it causes.

I guess that’s why I’m still enraged that Jessica Simpson, confounded by the “Chicken of the Sea” slogan on the can of tuna she opened, questioned her incredulous husband if she were eating chicken or fish. At least honor the animal that died for you by knowing what it is, you stupid, fucking whore.

By the way, I began this post with a quote from one of my favorite all time movies, Night of the Hunter. Rachel Cooper, the gentle but steely widow who takes in children during the Great Depression, says, "It's a hard world for little things" when a hawk swoops down on a rabbit. The Coen Brothers, who let's just say were heavily influenced by this movie, have H.I. McDonough say it in Raising Arizona.

You don't really believe the "Eat Right for your Type" hype, do you?
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