Don't You Just Hate Practical Jokes?

Image: IMGUR

We all have food preferences—some strong enough to make us physically uncomfortable.

For me, it is dog meat. I have never understood why anyone would eat an animal known for its loyalty and empathy. When I was growing up, my dog once stood between our family and danger during a robbery. That kind of loyalty leaves an impression.

While I am not what you would call a full-on "dog person"—they can be needy, clingy, and overly playful—I do like them. So the idea of eating a dog is not just unpleasant to me; it is deeply upsetting. I have also seen how cruelly dogs are sometimes killed for food. One particular incident, where a dog was clobbered while crying out in pain, stayed with me for years.

That said, I do not try to stop anyone from eating dog meat. I may express my discomfort or dismay, but I fully believe everyone has the right to choose what they eat.

Which is why what happened to me felt like such a violation.

At one point, I was staying with a family that regularly ate dog meat. The mother, who also disliked it, made sure it was cooked separately. It was an arrangement that kept the peace—those who did not want it did not have to see or eat it.

One day, while visiting, the youngest child approached me with a bowl of freshly cooked meat. He said it was from his mother and that she asked me to have a piece. Caught off guard but reassured by the mention of his mother, I asked, just to be sure, “Is it dog meat?” He replied, “Would mum have sent it if it was dog meat?”

That seemed fair. So I took a piece.

The moment I bit into it, I noticed something odd: he was standing there, watching me a little too closely. Then he began to laugh. Boldly. Loudly. And with clear satisfaction, he shouted that I had just eaten dog meat.

I was stunned—and then furious. I rushed to the bathroom and tried to make myself vomit. As I retched, he continued to laugh. When I brushed my mouth repeatedly in desperation, he laughed even harder.

Eventually, I confronted him. He saw my expression—my clenched fist, my labored breathing—and tried to play it down, saying, “Haba Ramat. Do not be angry. It was just a joke.”

I walked out of the room, out of the house, and cried in the street. Not just out of anger, but out of violation. When I returned, I was cold—completely shut off.

This memory came back to me recently, and I realized how important it is to say this: never trick someone into eating something they strongly dislike or are emotionally opposed to. Yes, children do foolish things sometimes, but adults do it too—often in the name of a "joke."

But what if I had been allergic? What if it had violated a religious belief? Or simply, what if I just hated it?

Respect people’s boundaries. Food is deeply personal, and so is trust.

Let us stop these kinds of "jokes." They are not funny. They are harmful.

Has anything like this ever happened to you? How did you respond?