Solid Food

For reasons of my own, I'm going to have a celebratory dinner tonight that borders on decadent. Although I have no plans on following this or any other diet, it may be called Atkins-like, especially if you ignore the corn and bread.

Tonight, for the first time in God knows how long, I'm going to have some baby back ribs, even though I have no idea what that really means. About a dozen of them. All by myself.

This uncaring display of consumption, I admit, lowers the hog or pig population by one, and I'm none too happy about that, but I take solace in realizing that if not for my dinner, this innocent pig would have met a cruel and unfortunate demise in this planet ruled by fang and claw by some tiger or would have been carried off in the talons of some, less considerate, falcon or other. I have a hunch most of these scavengers don't live a full life, retire to a soothing pasture, and live out their lives regaling their grandpigs on live as they knew it.

In fact, in spite of our continual whining, hardly any animal has anywhere near the stress-free life we humans seem to consider our birthright.

Tonight's mound of rib bones, which I don't think are good for dogs, will be a testament to something or other, if only to my hunger. I also expect them to be lip-smacking good.