I called a buddy of mine in S. Florida who says this story is crap. He’s not heard a peep about this, and he points out that there aren’t that many horses in the state, and most of them are in pretty secured areas – stables, barns, etc – which would be difficult to steal.

OTOH, he points out that there are cattle *everywhere* in the state, most of them not really supervised, just left to graze for days on end, and checked on once a week or so. It would be much easier to steal and kill a cow, and you’d get a lot more meat out of it.

I do the same with other animals, but price has an influence on me there, too. Chickens are pure gratefulness.

I think that you are soft-hearted enough that if you worked with cows (I’m only familiar with milk cows, not beef cattle) for a month or two, you’d feel differently about eating beef.

They really are very sweet animals. Go up to a fence that surrounds a cow pasture, and just stand there for a while. All the cows, with their big beautiful eyes, will wander over to you. They just want to be with you. I’m all for being as kind as possible to cows as we kill them. I’m never going to give up eating them, though.

It was only a couple of years ago that I was told that all my older brothers and sisters would gather around the windows when I went up to the chicken coop. They’d lock the door to the house and watch and laugh as I fleed in terror from Rusty the rooster.

Horrible behavior from siblings, you say? I agree. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any younger siblings to take it out on.

All that said, one of my favorite memories from childhood is bringing feed or water up the steep hill to the chicken coop in the middle of winter. Bitter cold outside, inside it was all comfortably warm. The smell of chicken shit mixed with sawdust is something I miss. The low calls of the sleepy hens as I’d pluck the eggs from underneath them, the way they’d rub their heads against my hand as I’d feed them, there’s nothing I’d trade those memories for.

I think most of the reason I’m so fond of pigeons is because of those chickens. There’s something very endearing about an animal that has abosuletly no defense. All either chickens (females) or pigeons can do is peck at you with their blunt bills.

I named all the chickens. I ate some of them, too. (My mom didn’t tell me at the time, because I would have freaked out. But now I know I did, and I have no problem with loving animals and eating them, too.

As long as they’re not abused in the process, I’m fine with it.

That’s kind of my point. I think eating a dog is unthinkable, but genuinely good people in southeast asia don’t think twice about it. I just think that’s interersting.

And that’s the distinction.

…but we still named everyone and everyone got fed and cared for as needed.

Of course. You did that because you still felt the need to treat them with a modicum of dignity and because they wouldn’t really be good eating if you didn’t feed them. In any case, they’re livestock, not pets. You’re not going to eat your horse or dog because they’re your pets and in our culture, they’re typically kept as things other than livestock, which means that by social norms, they’re “pet” animals. So, one might argue that the moral norm has been translated into a social norm. Of course, the fact that dogs and horses are not eaten might very well have to do with Jewish dietary laws.

Of course there are the “get drunk and kill something/anything” types, but they usually end up in an accident (usually preceded by the words, “hey yall, watch this”)

I guess it doesn’t really matter. I ain’t gonna eat my horse OR my dog.