Resthome conversations (5 of 5): Retired slaugherhouse owner.

Last month at the resthome, a retired slaughterhouse operator moved in, to come back closer to family after living in Florida for a number of years.

When I was in his room assisting him, pictures were going up, and there was this one huge picture leaned against the wall, of this cartoon cow with wacky pastel skin made up almost like quilt patches, and a small body but huge oversized hooves and a huge oversized head, and he was looking straight at you, blankly.

"My wife gave me that," he was like. "She said it was so I could remember all the cows I tore up."

Later that night, I came back, too, and he had some wedding and family reunion photos finally hung up over the TV.

And, I didn't notice it at first since it was so non-descript, but next to all of that to the right of the TV was mounted on this long light varnished wood board, a tall long thin hook with a small leather strap at the top, and a small metal plaque above it that said faintly, "THE LAST HOOK," and then some date.

"My nephew gave me that," he was like, "It was from the last cow at the factory."

Then, after a short pause he was like, "He went back and got it, and cleaned it up."