Rexy- Dinner

 I mean, of course it does. My mom will freak if a T. rex bites a chunk out of me. But Bertie wouldn’t let me come if there were even a sliver of a chance of that happening.

  “It’s lunchtime for her,” Bertie explains. “Today is a little special, because it’s the day we’ll be giving her the treated meat. We add a mix of amino acids and other nutrients monthly to make sure we’re keeping her healthy and strong.”

  “And she eats it fine, not bothered by the change in taste? Or does that matter?”

  “Taste definitely matters. She has her preferences, just like any animal. But our scientists have done a great job at masking any difference in taste,” Bertie says.
...

  “That’s a good comparison,” Bertie says. “I’d raise the gate and let you look into the paddock, but it’s going to take the two of us to get all of Rexy’s lunch loaded into the truck, and we shouldn’t make her wait.”

  “That’s okay,” I say. “Maybe another time.”

  We go back through the tunnel that leads to the supply house, and we spend the next twenty minutes using a wheelbarrow to cart Rexy’s special lunch from the big fridge out to the truck. It’s a heavy, bloody load of goat parts.

- The Evolution of Claire, chapter 21