This fine afternoon, I was sitting around in a friend's living room, talking with some folks about a camp out we're going to help put on in the spring. We were in his brand new (to him, at least) house in far northwest Austin. All along there had been barking from various neighbohood dogs, so I didn't really notice when the squealing started.

As it became more insistent, C said "Hey, that sounds like a pig!" ALL the dogs were barking too, at this point. I peeked out the back door. Sure enough, in the backyard two houses down, there were two guys sitting on large brown animal, and it was squirming. And squealing.

My other friends were curious too, and most of us stepped outside breifly to get a better look. The backyard was full of people of all ages, and dogs, running (the dogs were, that is) around the two men sitting on the brown beast, who was laying on his side on the grass. Not wanting to stare, we went back inside.

"Think they are going to kill it and eat it?"

"I don't know. I don't think that's how you butcher a pig."

"They had a grill going."

In a few minutes, I looked out again. Still sitting on it. Still squealing. Dogs still running around in circles. This was a large animal, requiring two adult men to pin him to the ground.

Our meeting continued and we forgot about the squealing, until we noticed it wasn't there. When I looked out, I saw someone wiping off a large limp leg. It flopped to rest when they were done. Now, a few hours later, I imagine this pig, now ham, still roasting on a spit.

Anybody who is willing to kill an animal with their own hands and cook it, possibly with the head still on (though I didn't see whether they did it that way or not), has much more right to eat flesh than those of us who buy it at the grocery store and never stare it in the eye. It was, however, a curious and unexpected thing to observe in suburbia today.

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