Saturday, September 8, 2007


Spanish for "calves" - baby cows!! My father-in-law somehow got the bright idea to purchase them and board them on the family fincacita (small farm) where we live. They're holed up in the unfinished house of my brother-in-law, a living ruin that the jungle reclaims a small piece of every day. It's now the barn. These things stink to high heaven. And one of them, who apparently was used to the company of people, moos all day and night out of lonliness. I really don't mind the noise, but the neighbors have made a few comments about not being able to sleep.

I'll be honest: I get hungry every time I pass them. My dog, Garcia, gets the same craving. The difference between us is that he's willing to act on his craving, while I supress mine. The other night I received a frantic call from my wife telling me that Garcia was attacking one of the little bovine mutants. I grabbed my flashlight and took a leisurely stroll out to the house/barn, secretly hoping that he had killed one and we'd be eating veal for the next month. When I arrived, the little Holstein's head was covered with blood. Garcia had gone for the ear!!!

This didn't really surprise me as he was raised on "chucharitas" - the dried pig's ears pet shops sell as jerky chew toys for dogs here. Apparently, even though it belonged to a living cow - mutant domestic cousin of the swine - and was still attached to it's head, the veal chucharita was just too irresistable and thus, fair game.

The damage wasn't severe and the bovine mutant no worse for the wear and tear. So Garcia got a scolding and a feined spanking as I winked, "Nice work!" at him. ¡Pura vida! ¡Puro sab√≥r!

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