The Day I Killed a Crab.

He was sweet.  

He wasn't threatening me, but I didn't have a choice, really.

Chef's orders.

It's part of learning to cook professionally.  People eat crab.  Not me, but people.  Hell, I didn't eat any animals for half of my life.  What business do I have killing animals?
I've come to terms with the fact that I'm a gather, not a hunter.

And don't get me wrong, I WAS a vegetarian, and am not anymore.  I'd like to consider myself a conscious carnivore though. I don't eat meat for every meal.  I really think about the animal the steak used to belong to.  Local is good, etc etc.

But I digress-
Back to Jonesy.  

Yes, I named him.  That was mistake #1.  He was cute in that very ugly/only a mother could love him sort of way.  And he looked at me, moving his mouth as if I could understand.  It was sad, really.

So, with the chef by my side, we said thank you and goodbye. 

Some American Indian tribes say  "ho, mitaque oeyasin," which translates to  "I respectfully acknowledge you, all my relations."

Dust to dust, baby.

It's pretty ironic that it's a pot of water that killed him.
Water is all he knew- it was his life source.  

And I know what you're thinking.
Yes, I've been called a hippie, and maybe it's true.  I don't care for tie-dye or Phish, but I'd hug that little crab in a second, even if he pinched me.  

So there it was- "the circle of life", so I'm told. But it doesn't make it easier or make it necessary in my opinion. 

In the end I'm glad it was me who put Jonesy into the pot that day.  I don't know if anyone else could have loved that silly little random crab as much as me.  

I loved him so much I ripped his heart out.  

It made me feel like I was 16, listening to the Smiths.

In the end I turned him into a souffle. Poor little guy.  

He fed my classmates well, and for that I thank him.