I Ate Dog

Don't judge; don't hate. It was my best Chinese buddy's father's 81st birthday, and on the table when I arrived was dog soup stewed with gingko berries, fried dog, and a bunch of other delicious stuff I don't remember because of the dog.

This was one of those rare moments in life when you're finally faced with an impending (seemingly ethical but probably not) decision, which you've contemplated but never thought you would actually face. Do you eat the dog? If you don't, you could offend the entire family, but they're used to foreigners so it probably wouldn't matter. You eat pigs, cows, chickens, ducks, goats, sheep, fish, crustaceans, mollusks, have sampled ostrich and alligator, insects. Why not a dog? In my ideal world I'd be a vegan, liberating our kindred creatures, but this isn't an ideal world and I don't have an ideal amount of willpower. While I'm an omnivore, even if being an omnivore is wrong, there is no uncrossable line.

Okay. Do it. It looks like beef. It smells like mutton. The soup looks rich, savory and warm--and it's darn cold outside. Get those chopsticks moving before it gets weird. Take a bite. Not bad; pretty amazing, actually; approaching the "fucking delicious" level. Followed with a gingko berry (more like a nut than a berry), a slurp of the broth, and a gan bei, it'd be pretty hard to beat. But not to worry, dog friends, outside southwestern China, I won't eat dog.

Here it's an unusual but traditional dish eaten at the onset of winter. Like mutton, it's supposed to be a "hot" food, giving you energy for the cold weather. It's also supposed to be health-giving, thus it's appearance at an 81 year old's birthday dinner.

I feel good having tried it. I feel more Chinese, specifically Guizhou Chinese, which is red-letter (to push Zunyi's Red Army fame once again) and special. Here is the last remnant of Revolutionary-era China. The wave of change is here and transforming the entire province day by day. The people are willing and know it's coming, but I can't help feel that something is being lost. Something important. The loss of such important somethings, however, is our world. We're horizon oriented, not knowing exactly what is next, but knowing that it'll be broader and more uniform than before. For the best, we hope, but that's also in the horizon. In any case, no more dogs for dinner. I'm glad I had a taste.