When my brother, Jim, and I were young and lived on the farm, we raised rabbits for a 4-H club to which we belonged. My dad was an orchardist and raised apples, pears and cherries to be shipped all over the country. But we raised some animals which gave us eggs, meat and milk for our own use. We named many of the animals and loved them all. I liked taking care of the rabbits - we fed them, cleaned their hutches, played with them and when 4-H was over, we ate them. That was how life on the farm was.

My dad had a white, fur muff made for me out of the fur of Alexander, our big buck. It was beautiful and kept my hands nice and warm when I tucked them into it in the cold weather. I still have it in my hope chest with other special things. I don’t know what I was hoping for with the hope chest – at that time, maybe it was for a big chest! I’ve proudly shown it – the fur muff, not my chest - to Teri and Cindy, but they don’t really like hearing about it. They’ve always lived in the city and we never ate our pets. But the way the economy is right now with the sky-rocketing price of food, maybe I should get a few chickens and put them on my condo deck. I could sell the eggs and also eat the chickens after a while. I wonder what the condo association thinks of chickens on decks. “Chickens on decks” . . . sounds like an entrée at KFC, doesn’t it? I’ll have to check it out.