What follows is a story from Jonathan Safran Foer's remarkable new book, "Eating Animals," a funny, poignant, penetrating look at how we treat the animals we eat. He traces the evolution of animal husbandry from shepherds in the fields to factory farms. He raises difficult moral questions and will make vegetarians of many readers. But that is not his goal. His goal is to satisfy his own curiosity and to inform -- so that no one can say they didn't know what happened to the cow in that burger they just ate.

Among many compelling passages in his book, Mr. Foer offered this conversation with his grandmother, who kept barely one step ahead of the Nazis as she fled for her life during World War II.

-- Greg Victor, oped/Forum editor

We weren't rich, but we always had enough. Thursday we baked bread, and challah, and rolls, and they lasted the whole week. Friday we had pancakes. Shabbat we always had a chicken, and soup with noodles. You would go to the butcher and ask for a little more fat. The fattiest piece was the best piece.

It wasn't like now. We didn't have refrigerators, but we had milk and cheese. We didn't have every kind of vegetable, but we had enough. The things that you have here and take for granted ... But we were happy. We didn't know any better. And we took what we had for granted, too.

Then it all changed. During the war it was hell on earth, and I had nothing. I left my family, you know. I was always running, day and night, because the Germans were always right behind me. If you stopped, you died. There was never enough food.

I became sicker and sicker from not eating, and I'm not just talking about being skin and bones. I had sores all over my body. It became difficult to move. I wasn't too good to eat from a garbage can. I ate the parts others wouldn't eat. If you helped yourself, you could survive. I took whatever I could find. I ate things I wouldn't tell you about.

Even at the worst times, there were good people, too. Someone taught me to tie the ends of my pants so I could fill the legs with any potatoes I was able to steal. I walked miles and miles like that, because you never knew when you would be lucky again.

Someone gave me a little rice once, and I traveled two days to a market and traded it for some soap, and then traveled to another market and traded the soap for some beans. You had to have luck and intuition.

The worst it got was near the end. A lot of people died right at the end, and I didn't know if I could make it another day. A farmer, a Russian, God bless him, he saw my condition, and he went into his house and came out with a piece of meat for me.

"He saved your life."

I didn't eat it.

"You didn't eat it?"

It was pork. I wouldn't eat pork.

"Why?"

What do you mean "why?"

"What, because it wasn't kosher?"

Of course.

"But not even to save your life?"

If nothing matters, there's nothing to save.

Cartoonist Rob Rogers does "Rob's Rough," an early look at his work and his creative process, exclusively at PG+, a members-only web site of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Our introduction to PG+ gives you all the details.