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It’s Sunday morning. The rain is turning into that drizzle that just goes nowhere fast – like the rest of us, really. That low fog hanging around like a depressed ghost that never quite got the hint to move on. The sky is so grey and dull it could be mistaken for the average British government policy document.
I hear the crows cawing away. Seagulls screaming on the fields. And the sheep, oh the faithful sheep, munching away on that lush green grass. Awaiting their wool coats to be shorn so we can knit jumpers we never wear, then dutifully birthing lambs – so we can slaughter them for that nice “bouncy spring lamb roast.”
“Oh isn’t it beautiful?” we coo, looking at them frolicking in the fields. Then we go and kill them into oblivion, along with pigs and bovine. What a horrible, pointless, non-life they lead. It’s remarkable how we treat animals with such disdain. Sentient beings with every right on this plane of existence, yet we kill them. For what? So we can stuff ourselves full, complain we’re fat, and do it all again next Sunday.
I’ve heard calves crying for their mothers, and cows crying out for their calves when they’re taken away. It’s barbaric. Heart-wrenching. Sad. Evil. Plain wicked. But hey, as long as your latte’s topped up and your Sunday roast is plated nicely for Instagram, who cares about the screams in the barn, right?
Animals feel pain. They have souls. They cry when they are hurt, but we slaughter them in ways so savage they’d make medieval torturers wince.
I was forced to give up meat and almost all animal products by MS. But honestly? I’m glad. I’ve stopped eating sentient beings. Let’s hope vegetables aren’t too sentient, though. Imagine the screaming broccoli.
So no church bells this Sunday morning. Just me, ranting on like a lunatic to the drizzle, the crows, and the sheep.
I think I’m going around the twist.
But then again… maybe I was never facing the right way to begin with.
“The views in this post are based on my personal
experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”
“By ink and breath and sacred rage, I write.
By storm and silence, I survive.”
@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk