Billy and Bob

I just purchased a brand new chest freezer from Lowe’s. The freezer sits in my garage and mocks what it hides inside by shimmering perfectly white and clean. My sister and my brother-in-law raised two steers named Billy and Bob. Recently those steers met their predetermined fate and I purchased what anyone in the know refers to as a “side of beef”. I packed my frozen solid and wrapped in white paper side of beef into my shiny new freezer.

My sister lives close enough that I occasionally helped feed those boys. I helped herd them from pasture to pasture. I knew their names and could tell them apart. But I fail to feel guilty or even queasy about my yummy white packages. One of those packages turned into a delicious Shepard’s Pie last night and I ate two servings. Growing up on a ranch must have permanently warped me. It reminds me of the Far Side cartoon pictured above that my parents sardonically hung on our refrigerator while I was growing up. And now I really have just one question – who is in my freezer – Billy or Bob?