At first, it sounded like a simple favor.
A friend needed extra freezer space, so he stored a whole deer at their house. Not just a few cuts, but the entire thing, neatly vacuum-sealed and labeled. Ribs, steaks, ground meat, everything.
It was supposed to be temporary.
That was nearly three years ago.
Now, what started as a favor has turned into a quiet standoff. Because while the meat still technically belongs to the friend, it’s been sitting untouched for so long that one question keeps coming up.
At what point does “storage” turn into “abandoned”?

Here’s how it all unfolded.








A Freezer That Became a Storage Unit
From the beginning, she didn’t object to helping out. It wasn’t a huge inconvenience at first, just a bit of extra space taken up in their deep freezer.
And to be fair, the friend didn’t disappear. He still came by about once a month.
Each time, she asked the same question. Do you want to take some meat home?
Each time, the answer was the same. “Maybe next time.”
Weeks turned into months. Months turned into years.
The deer stayed exactly where it was.
When Patience Starts to Wear Thin
After a while, the situation stopped feeling temporary.
Freezer space is valuable, especially in a household. And keeping something untouched for years, while continuing to say “next time,” starts to feel less like storage and more like neglect.
Eventually, she made a decision.
Instead of letting the meat sit there indefinitely, she started using some of it. Cooking meals. Making use of something that otherwise might go to waste.
To her, it made sense. If no one else was going to use it, why not?
But her husband didn’t see it that way.
The Line Between Courtesy and Ownership
From his perspective, the issue wasn’t about practicality. It was about respect.
The meat belonged to his friend. That hadn’t changed, even if the friend hadn’t taken any action.
Using it without explicit permission crossed a line.
But from her side, that line felt blurry at best.
Because this wasn’t a forgotten jacket or a spare box in the garage. This was food. Perishable, even in a freezer. Something with a shelf life.
And more importantly, something she had repeatedly reminded the owner about.
At some point, continuing to ask starts to feel pointless.
When “Technically” Stops Making Sense
Situations like this sit in a gray area.
Technically, the friend never gave up ownership. He didn’t say, “You can have it.” He didn’t formally abandon it.
But practically, his behavior suggested something else.
Two to three years is a long time to leave food untouched. Especially when you’re regularly reminded it’s there.
In many everyday situations, people rely less on strict rules and more on reasonable expectations. If something is left in someone else’s space for years, with no effort to reclaim it, most would assume it’s no longer a priority.
That doesn’t make it automatically fair game. But it does change how people interpret the situation.
The Real Issue Isn’t the Meat
At its core, this isn’t really about venison.
It’s about communication.
No one set a clear timeline. No one established boundaries. The favor just… lingered.
And when expectations aren’t clearly defined, people fill in the gaps differently.
She saw it as wasted space and unused food. He saw it as someone else’s property, untouched until explicitly handed over.
Neither perspective is unreasonable. But they lead to very different conclusions.
Here’s the input from the Reddit crowd:
Most people leaned toward her side, arguing that after years of inaction, the friend had effectively abandoned the meat.




Many pointed out that continuing to store it without using it made little sense.








Others suggested a middle ground. Give the friend a clear deadline. Ask him to take it or lose it. That way, there’s no confusion.







A few focused on the husband’s stance, saying that while his concern about respect is valid, it doesn’t override the reality of the situation.


In this case, a simple act of helping out slowly became an unspoken burden. And without clear communication, that burden turned into conflict.
Maybe the solution isn’t about who’s right or wrong.
Maybe it’s about finally drawing a line.
So after years of waiting, reminding, and making space, is it still someone else’s meat?
Or is it just something no one else cared enough to claim?


















