One day, at my father's urgins, I asked by German grandfather what he called cats? "Alley rabbits!", came the reply. If you clean and dress a car, removing the head, tail and paws, it's hard to distinguish from a rabbit. They say it might even take a vet's eye to tell the difference. During the last days of WWI, the Germans had little to eat, especially fresh meat. My Grandmother said the local butcher probably sold them cats as rabbits. She was also convinced of eating dog, as well. Being superstitious, Grand Ma swore that dogs could sense it in her and that was why they didn't like her. Think I'll skip the family tradition. But, you never know. My dad always used to say you don't see cats hanging around a Chinese restaurant. I once had lunch at the old Kow Loon (we called it the Calhoun) across the street from where I worked in downtown DC. Once had Moo Goo Gai Pan and swore the chicken wasn't chicken. Might have been kitty. Worst meal I had there, I went back to work and felt a bit poorly. Came home and turned on the news. The TV station used to run weekly listings of restaurants shut down for health department violations. Sure enough, there was the Calhoun. But I survived. Only get the urge to lick my ass once in a while. Hey, is that a ball of yarn over there? Gotta go!!!!
