A fishy tale

Rowo, Petungkriyono - I had to turn down a very generous serving of fish (which was rare, with the norm being a largely non-meat diet. I avoid using the word vegetarian as some might argue consumption of eggs would disqualify one as vegetarian) at the dinner table yesterday night, not because of how it was cooked, nor was it because of what sort of fish it was, but rather the tale of its tail-end (lame joke!) of its life.

And so it was on that fateful morning that we were involved in an medical emergency, not involving a human, but of a particularly large fish that was kept in the pond at the back of the house. Near-dead, we had attempted to resuscitate it with a variety of means, some of which bordered a little on ludicrous. By now you can probably guess that our efforts couldn't bring the dead back to life. And so it came to dinner time, when our host nonchalantly said that the fish on the plate was the same one from the morning. *gulp*. Somehow after seeing it alive (or was it already dead...) and trying to save it, then subsequently eating it is... well, something I could not stomach. It sounds a little silly, but that's just me. Heh.