I had a really unpleasant memory tonight. I have this puppy, a 7 month old corgi, and my boyfriend buys him things to chew on. Dried animal parts or whatever. I refuse to discuss it with him, and I refuse to look at them. I can't stand the sound it makes when my puppy chews on them. It grates on my nerves terribly. I'm not a vegetarian or anything like that, I eat meat.
But there was this mission in Baqubah. We were in this neighborhood for several days. One of the Infantry guys shot someone in the street. The body just lay there in the street for the rest of the time we were there. We had to actually walk over it every day to get to our trucks every morning and every evening. After the first day, dogs were coming out into the streets and eating parts of the dead guy. It was flipped over on it's stomach, for which I am eternally grateful, so they couldn't get to the soft belly. They mostly ate at the legs and arms. Every night they got a little more. It was beyond fucked up.
Now every time I see one of those stupid chew thingies that my puppy has, I think to myself, "If I died here, and no one found me for awhile, and my puppy was hungry enough, he would eat me just like that guy."
It's one of the dozens of reasons I'm not as attached to the puppy as my boyfriend. DJ is a ridiculously adorable puppy, but sometimes I can't look at him because it makes me sick to my stomach. Sometimes I have to hide in my own house to get away from the sounds he makes when he chews on things.
It's very "Silence of the Lambs" isn't it? I think I'm going to throw up.