Eat an Animal for PETA Day

The day has finally arrived. The Third Annual Eat an Animal for PETA day is here. I had a great feast planned for today. All the preparation for today’s feast had already been laid. I had the time to be able to cook an 8 course meat meal as I am on vacation for the week with the children. But as the saying goes; the best laid plans of mice and men (or internet connection) often go astray.

I started the vacation with a trip to the Butcher of Prague (aka dentist/dental surgeon) for a small routine procedure. I have subsequently learned there is no such thing as a small routine procedure. Every visit with the Butcher of Prague is incredibly complex and often extremely painful once the freezing wears off. He does offer prescription drugs which are effective for the pain but also make me extremely ill.

He tells me I am so lucky to know him as he not only strives for perfection but he is an artist as well. He wishes he could find the same level of competence for his own dental needs. He believes that the standards in the West have fallen so far that he is now forced to return to Prague to have dental work done. I have also learned there is no such thing as one visit to the Butcher. One visit turns into two which turns into three. One cannot rush great dental art….

Unfortunately, the Butcher does not fully understand the need to celebrate today with meat. It would interfere with his art. He suggests that I need to return to my roots and eat borscht or kasha instead, and if I am very good I can have a little schi too. I really blame no one but myself. I was referred to the Butcher by my favourite Romanian dentist. She advised him that I was a widow with three children so he should go easy on my wallet.

When I first met the Butcher he asked how it came to be that I was widowed at such a young age and what ever happened to my husband. I told him he had a heart attack. I find that I am extremely uncomfortable with the intense sympathy often offered by strangers and issued a glib comment to defuse the exchange of our meeting. Unfortunately, I told him that I figured it was the sex that killed him. I had no idea that he was single and lonely. He now tells me that I should get myself another husband and if I want one to last I should stick to my own kind and get a Czech. It has not yet dawned on him that although my father's family came from Minsk and can be considered Eastern Europe, Minsk is not really close to Prague. Nor does it seem to change the conversation when I tell him that I am not ready to dating. After our first meeting I always arrive and leave under escort by either the Last Amazon or my sons.

So today, the feast has to go on without me, and is cooked under supervision of the Last Amazon which means it can be very good or its George’s takeout chicken for the children. So today, eat an animal not only for PETA but myself as well.