Had Tam done something that seemed normal to him but was abhorrent
in his new land? In Vietnam, certainly, Tam had been poor enough.
He might have taken a stray dog home to feed his family. He might
have even stolen a dog, such things were common enough back in
Saigon. And the decrepit American ghetto in which Tam was now
living, it was full of stray and abandoned dogs. My godbrother was
already blaming himself for this situation before he even asked the
next question.

"Tam... where did you get this dog? Where did you get this meat?"

"From the American store. Isn't it good?"

Was this sweet and honest boy who'd been so candid and forthcoming
about everything else lying to his Si Phu? Impossible. No, wait, if
he knew it was wrong to take and kill and eat a dog in America and
wanted to lie about it, he would never have served a bowl of dog
meat to my godbrother.

"Tam... American stores do not sell dog meat. Nobody here eats dog
meat."

Uh oh, my god, my godbrother thought. Oh no! Some stores do sell
dog...

Had they gone to a pet store? Had they mistaken a pet store for
some kind of live animal meat market? Bought a dog from an American
pet store thinking the store was selling them as food? That was
something else that Si Phu never thought to cover in his
orientations.

"Tam... can you tell me where is the store, where you bought this
dog meat?"

"The store you showed me, the one right up there," Tam said,
pointing up towards Front Street.

Ah wait. Wait, OK, my godbrother thought. The mercado. That was
it! The mercado sometimes sold goats, to the Puerto Rican and
Caribbean customers. They often had whole skinned goats hanging
right in the front window of the store. And a skinned goat, to
someone who never saw one before, might look like a skinned dog.

So my godbrother felt relieved that they were eating Thit De (goat
meat), and not Thit Cho (dog meat), and tried to establish with
Tam that this was a meat he bought at the mercado.

Tam, however, insisted the meat was not from the mercado. It was
from the American "Food Value" market. And that Tam and Tien had
bought it there a few times already and thought that American dog
meat was really tasty. Very sweet. Tam spoke about how much better
American dog meat was, compared to Vietnamese, and how tender it
was.

My godbrother insisted that American stores do NOT sell dog meat,
least of all "Food Value," but as he was trying to persuade Tam of
this, Tam offered to show him. Tam got up from the table and went
to the kitchen, and when he returned he handed an empty can to my
godbrother.

The label on the can had the word "Recipe" across the top. Below
that was a picture of a large, handsome, and meaty-looking dog.
Below that were the words "Dog Food."

My godbrother blamed himself at once. He'd told the boys that you
can tell what's inside a can by just looking at what's pictured on
the label. In this particular case, the can clearly indicated that
it contained a large Collie.

Anyone who ever learned a second language will immediately recognize
the situation.

To be fair to Tam, if Americans wanted to be clear with their
English, they would label such cans "Food for Dogs."


Cheers

Jim


... Since tomatoes are fruit, ketchup must be a smoothie.

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