As far as eating one's pets, I regularly stayed with a college friend who's parents ran a hobby farm in their retirement. They lovingly raised 20-30 cows and happily ate them, discussing over dinner whether Fred was perhaps tougher than Max had been. The meat went into the freezer labelled by the cow's name and the cut of the meat, so they always knew who they were eating. I never did feel comfortable joining those conversations. Or talking to their living cows by name either, after the first dinner coversation.