Dowser

My dad is eager for the new
growing season. Last
season ended
up all right despite the mini-
drought which
parched the earth and
cracked it into puzzle pieces. Well, so
much for the Farmers Almanac which predicted endless
torrents. And so much for
God who ignored Dad's prayers for
rain and let him buy a
dowsing rod and
find his water for himself.
"But it was God
who told me to buy that
dowsing rod," Dad
said, "so praise be to
Him for our bumper crops." All
winter I've been feeding the animals, fallen
in love with them, given them
names out of a baby name
book. Dad showed me how to slaughter
a pig, my pig
kept screeching after I
cut his throat, I cried
all week.
His name was Pete.
Today Dad forced me to watch him skin
a goat
carcass so I would lose my horror at what being carnivorous
is all about. We shouldn't think
meat appears magically all
cleaned and dressed and shrink-
wrapped in our supermarket
freezer. Be mindful that one of God's
dumb creatures gave his
life before arriving grilled and
sizzling on our plate.
Dad didn't call it skinning the
goat, he called it flaying it. Aztec
warriors were flayed In
sacrificial rituals in ancient
times so they could
return as hummingbirds,
he said.
I have a very strong
empathetic instinct I'm told so I couldn't help
feeling that I was that
goat which Dad was flaying as he whistled while he did
his grisly work.
And here is the liver,
and here is the spleen, he said. Here
is the pancreas and the thymus and the
testicles and let me tell you, sweetheart, that although
most people won't touch organs and
entrails – unfairly
called the offal, more rightly labeled variety
meats – they're the sweetest
parts of the animal.
I'm toying
with the idea of becoming a vegetarian
because aren't all animals God's creatures just as
we are?
Scripture says that,
right? My parents just shrug
at those questions. Mom says Are You Equating
People With Animals? And I say absolutely. She says
Oh, Then, People Are
Pigs? I say Mom, don't
flatter yourself. She
smacks me, of course. It's
a shame for me to get this far and
not even have the heart to
write another word much
less check for spelling
errors and inconsistencies of
thought in what I already
wrote I talked to Dad
tonight I told him that
before I killed another one of God's dumb goats I'd kill
myself.
He sent for Dr. D'Entremont my school
shrink which at this point I
appreciate.