We stop at a butcher’s and buy some meat to grill and milk for the dog, who won’t touch it. I begin to worry more about the animal's health than the cash I coughed up for it. The meat turns out to be horse. It’s incredibly sweet and we can't eat it. Fed up, I chuck a bit away and the dog wolfs it down in no time. Amazed, I throw it another piece and the same thing happens. The milk regime is lifted.
from The Motorcycle Diaries by Che Guevara
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