I DON'T EAT DOGS

I Don’t Eat Dogs

Growing up, I wasn’t aware that one could have a dog as a pet, a dog you treat as a family who isn’t smelly or out to take a bite out of your behind. I wasn’t raised like that. The first memory I have of a dog was at six-year-old. I encountered the dog on the way back from school. It had flies all over his face, perching on parts of his face and his nose was disgustingly wet. It looked at me and snarled, showing his gnarly teeth and slobber. I had been told by many to run away from dogs and if the dog runs after you, throw a hand a handful of sand or stone at the dog and it would let you go. I wasn’t tempted to pet the dog or take a single breath or step towards it. As he snarled at me, my survival instinct kicked and I took off running. Did he run after like the stories said it would? Of course, it did, the stories were of the same dog. I did throw stones at it as I was directed but it didn’t stop. I ran until I soon came across a bigger adult who literary yelled at the dog to go away then advised me to grab a big stick to poke him with in case he decided to come back.

You can then tell from my narration that I don’t like dogs but I don’t hate them. That first dog I met was probably neglected, flea-bitten among other things. But that led me to another memory of a dog as an adult. I had gone for the traditional marriage of a friend back in the university. The ceremony was in a village and I was happy and looking forward to it. Her name was Amaka. As we were coming into their village compound, I saw two great Danes tied to a post by their gate and there were kids throwing stones and sticks at the dog who looked as bored as could be. I was actually surprised to discover that people in the villages also keep dogs as pets and those Danes were really huge.

We had come a day before the ceremony so we were staying the night at her house. I was told to go get a bucket of fresh meat from Monday, the bride's older brother so I could make pepper soup from it. This would be our dinner. And so I did. I got the bucket of meat from Monday and made my way to the kitchen where Amaka was waiting to give me a hand with the soup. We finished making the soup and it was heavenly. Everyone came by to take a helping of a place of the soup. The meat was well cooked, soft to chew and I outdid myself with the seasoning. As Amaka, Monday, I and others were sitting, eating under the moon, sharing stories and chasing away mosquitoes, I began to wonder where the meat came from.

See. I have had beef, goat meat, lamb, even a horse at one point and ii would like to think I can differentiate the texture and taste but that wasn’t what made me suspicious. It was because I couldn’t hear the heavy panting of the great Danes anymore and...... And.... this is important. I have heard stories that people from this area eat dogs. So I asked the following question.

"Where are the dogs? Did you take them to their cage?"

Everyone paused to look at me in confusion.

"What dogs?" Monday asked.

"The dogs that were tied at the gate this morning."

I could hear Amaka choke a little on her food or maybe she was trying to hide her laughter because Monday said, "you mean the dog we are eating?"

Well, that was news to me. I slowly put the plate down as ii felt my stomach begin to turn.

"This is dog soup?" I asked for a second confirmation.

"This is dog soup," Monday confirmed.

I could feel the dinner retracing their steps. I was going to be sick.

"This is dog soup? Why didn’t anyone tell me?"

"Because we assumed you knew it was dog soup. Where did you think the bucket of soup came from?" Amaka asked, laughing out loud at this point. We were close enough that she could laugh at my expenses.

"Anywhere but a dog. I don’t eat dogs," I told them as a matter of fact.

"Too late. Your plate is almost empty. You do now," said one of the people sitting with us.

"Why?" Amaka asked.

I couldn’t tell her why because I really don’t know why I don’t, still don’t eat dogs when almost everyone around me does. I think it might be connected with my first encounter with a dog. The disgust I felt that day might have imprinted in my head and turned off the common household pet without even knowing. I knew a lot of people ate dogs but I had subconsciously steered clear of eating them without knowing.

I just don’t," I told Amaka.

"Well, don’t waste a good piece of meat. I can finish yours for you," Monday said and picked up my plate to finish the last piece of meat left in it.

People might attack my opinion and disagree with me but I don’t like dogs, I don’t eat them and I don’t have a dog. When I see writing themes like this where they want you to share a memory you have with your pet, any kind of pet, I feel a little cheated because I wasn’t raised to like pets or to keep any kind of animal. The only animal I grew close to was a baby goat my mum had rescued from the bush.

I took care of that goat as much as my little heart could. I took him out to feed at the nearby pasture. I put out water, yam peelings and many other things to him to eat. I would even go out to the backyard to tell him stories. Six months later, we were thick as thieves.

but it is with no regret that I inform you that we used that goat to make pepper soup for the Christmas celebration. I was sad and heartbroken but it did not diminish my enjoyment of the meat. I ate until my tummy was strung like a drum.

Knowing all this, do you think I deserve a pet, a dog?

Seeing the relationship with people since moving to Canada has made me wish i had a better tolerance for the four-legged creature within boundaries of course. I can never comprehend those that let the dogs lick their face or their child or eat food off their plates at the same time. I don't even give humans that privilege. so within the boundary.

Because, you see, my dream this year, as I have promised, written and highlighted in my previous writing is to adopt a dog and try as much as I can to make happy memories with him. I shall name him Testing.