Rab­bit skins dry­ing on fence

One day as my com­pan­ion and I walked to our house we passed two ani­mal skins hang­ing on a fence in the back yard. As far as I could tell they looked like cat skins. I went inside and asked our mamita (in Chile we rented rooms from home­own­ers and called them “pen­siones”, and the host­ess was gen­er­ally called the “mamita”) if we were hav­ing cat for din­ner. “Of course we’re hav­ing cat for din­ner”, she responded. “Don’t you like cat?” Will­ing to try any­thing after liv­ing and eat­ing in Chile for 18 months, I told her I would give it a shot. After din­ner she finally admit­ted that we weren’t actu­ally eat­ing cat, but instead the meat was from the two rab­bits she had butchered ear­lier in the day.