Liver

The following is a partial transcription of my half of conversation occurring largely via text message earlier this evening, and supplemented by photographic evidence to better document the disturbing nature of what occurred:

I just had to rip apart a cow’s liver and it was disgusting.

Sad face.

...Why? I don’t know anymore!! It squished into liquid and the smell and I can still smell and I can still smell it! SAD FACE!

And Mustard keeps taking the liver out of the dog dish and laying it on the couch to...sit. And ooze liver into the furniture I love. And Mustard won’t actually eat the liver because it’s Toby’s liver, but Toby won’t eat the liver because Toby realizes that liver is not food. It is NOT food. It is a gross blob of ew.

Seriously, this has happened about six times. I keep moving the liver back but I have to use a giant wad of paper towel to touch it because the smell...

(Also I ran out of my regular dog food and everything went downhill from there.)

I can rip a steak in two. It’s easy. Because a steak doesn’t liquify in your hands and ooze between your clenched fingers and the smell...oh the smell. I washed my hands like five times and I can’t get the smell out.

It’s sitting on my couch right now. It’s an amorphous gelatinous blob the colour of rust. It’s like...have you ever seen a beached jellyfish? It’s like that. Or a placenta.

Pictured below: three terrifying things.