Issue One, March 2002
the things we do for love
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Idly browsing through this
respectable e-zine one may have come to the conclusion that i
am a bit of a cat lover. Indeed, I am a total nut for the entire
animal race (spiders and snakes excluded). Therefore, I have been
a committed vegetarian for the past ten years. You can imagine
my dismay then when it was time for my kitty's annual check-up
and I was informed that she had some tartar build up and the best
way for getting rid of this was to feed her some chicken necks
from the butcher's next door. Of course, I wondered if this was
some scam dreamt up between the butcher and the vet ("Hey!
Let's help each other's business!"), but I love my vets.
They are the coolest, and go pop into them at Scotchmer Street
in North Fitzroy if you are currently shopping for one.
A simple dollar bought me more chicken necks than one could possibly
hope for. As the blood started to seep through the butcher paper
I knew the task that lay ahead of me was more gruesome than I
could imagine. As I started to seperate the necks and freeze them
in glad wrap I imagined myself as some Patricia Cornwell-ian forensic
hero. "It is eleven thirty-seven am. I am about to start
the incision of the lumbar region, and am trying to hold onto
my breakfast..."
The autopsy completed, a chicken neck was placed before my beloved
cat, who promptly sniffed it gingerly and ran behind the couch,
only to emerge when more sensible food was put out for her. I
couldn't blame her, although I am still worrying about what to
do with her dental problems - it's like having a teenager who
refuses to wear their plate.
So I am now stuck with a freezer full of chicken necks that sit
next to my tofu and spinach parcels. But these are the things
we do for love.
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