Dog space

Back to dogs again.

And, because I know you want to read about my weird job...

I tried raw meat today. See, this is a kind of running gag in the meat department (as in, it kicks in everyone else's gag reflex). In every other area of the store, the people eye us suspiciously and whisper, "I hear they eat raw meat back there."
Well, it's true. Everyone's got their thing: one guy is especially fond of spreading a gob of raw hamburger over a piece of bread and eating it like a sandwich (for breakfast); another guy will chew on slivers of chicken, and has been known to catch turkey hearts - in his mouth. Some guys will only go so far as to eat filet mignon, or the meaty bits of bacon, which isn't technically raw. Me, I'll eat raw fish, as long as I know how long it's been out.

I got curious today, and while one guy is chewing on a piece of ribeye steak - left over from the side of beef he just cut - I, out of morbid curiousity, asked if I could have a piece. It was not tasty; it was not delicious. It had all the flavor of... I don't know, a potato, or rice, but the most awful texture. I can't imagine wanting beef of any kind - cooked or uncooked - in the near future. Every time I look at a steak, I think of the cold, chewy, nasty little piece of beef...

I'm sticking to fish from now on. Sashimi. Yum.