Spenny
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An Upsetting Weekend Story.
Late at night, in the middle of nowhere, I was absentminded while driving home when I suddenly saw something appear in the middle of the road. At the last minute, I swerved out of the way. I thought about what it was.
"That can't be a cat..."
I turned the car around and sped back. It was an older kitten with black and white fur curled up in the middle of the road. I rolled down the window to call it, but there was no response. I then jogged up to it and hastily picked it up, but I was greeted with scratches and hisses. I dropped the poor thing, and it crawled with its front legs into the deep grass brush. More than likely, it's been hit by a car and left for dead.
A portly older man driving by stopped, and I asked for help. His response? "I wouldn't bother. It's just a barn cat. It will sort itself out."
You're telling me a cat sitting in the middle of the road, not moving correctly and injured, will 'sort itself out?'
Infuriated, I grabbed a jacket from the car, held my phone flashlight in my teeth and smothered the cat in the coat from the soggy ditch. At this point, it seemed to have already given up, and It sat still in the coat. I'm more than sure it was warmer than a road or ditch.
I left the car, walked with the cat to the nearest house for miles, and asked if they had a box. It happened to be a farmer.
They got me a box and told me I did more harm than good. The best thing to do is to leave it by the roadside.
"We get all sorts of people stopping for sheep that are incapacitated. They do more harm putting a blanket over them and trying to help them."
As soon as I heard that, I knew what type of empathy I was dealing with. I quickly left before I lost my temper. There was no way I was leaving something to die slowly on the side of the road.
Once I got home, and the cat was put into a crate, she was barely lucid. She crawled with her two front feet to the blanket, unable to get her back legs onto the warmth. She resigned herself to lay her head down, exhausted and twitching from the pain. I pushed a blanket under her so she could be comfortable.
By the morning, her breathing was shallow. She was unresponsive to touch. More than likely, she is on her way out. I took her to the vet with my Dad; she had no owner. She was paralysed, with tonnes of internal bleeding. It was a matter of time before she passed away from her injuries. She was put to sleep.
We arrived home, and my family proceeded to cook sausage sandwiches for lunch. I couldn't believe it. The next thing I heard stunned me.
"It's never a good thing when an animal suffers. We pride ourselves on the animal lives well." At the same time, the smell of pig flesh & crackling of animal fat filled the room.
I think the hardest thing about being a vegan is not the protein, the inconvenience of mentioning you need vegan options or the mindless debates you have with people who think they know better.
It's the feeling that you are crazy for being consistent.
People will pet their cats and dogs, then eat someone else in their other hand. Animals are animals, goddamn it. Pigs, cows, sheep & chickens are as innovative as our cats and dogs. The difference is if they are assigned "family members" or "meat" at birth. The ones you assign to as "meat/milk/egg production" are all brutally killed. Local, international, humane, grass-fed, factory-farmed, whatever - all of them will die. They smell the blood, hear the screams, watch their friends get skinned and cut up, and then are stabbed and decapitated, regardless of their background. Where is the humane compassion in that? At least be consistent.
Besides, if you're all for meat, why does animal welfare even matter? It's going to be dead, anyway. The cat has served its purpose. It can no longer catch mice. Why didn't I just stop my car and reverse over the top of this cat, crushing its little head under my wheel? Why didn't I stamp on it? It's only a barn cat, after all.
Who cares?
Late at night, in the middle of nowhere, I was absentminded while driving home when I suddenly saw something appear in the middle of the road. At the last minute, I swerved out of the way. I thought about what it was.
"That can't be a cat..."
I turned the car around and sped back. It was an older kitten with black and white fur curled up in the middle of the road. I rolled down the window to call it, but there was no response. I then jogged up to it and hastily picked it up, but I was greeted with scratches and hisses. I dropped the poor thing, and it crawled with its front legs into the deep grass brush. More than likely, it's been hit by a car and left for dead.
A portly older man driving by stopped, and I asked for help. His response? "I wouldn't bother. It's just a barn cat. It will sort itself out."
You're telling me a cat sitting in the middle of the road, not moving correctly and injured, will 'sort itself out?'
Infuriated, I grabbed a jacket from the car, held my phone flashlight in my teeth and smothered the cat in the coat from the soggy ditch. At this point, it seemed to have already given up, and It sat still in the coat. I'm more than sure it was warmer than a road or ditch.
I left the car, walked with the cat to the nearest house for miles, and asked if they had a box. It happened to be a farmer.
They got me a box and told me I did more harm than good. The best thing to do is to leave it by the roadside.
"We get all sorts of people stopping for sheep that are incapacitated. They do more harm putting a blanket over them and trying to help them."
As soon as I heard that, I knew what type of empathy I was dealing with. I quickly left before I lost my temper. There was no way I was leaving something to die slowly on the side of the road.
Once I got home, and the cat was put into a crate, she was barely lucid. She crawled with her two front feet to the blanket, unable to get her back legs onto the warmth. She resigned herself to lay her head down, exhausted and twitching from the pain. I pushed a blanket under her so she could be comfortable.
By the morning, her breathing was shallow. She was unresponsive to touch. More than likely, she is on her way out. I took her to the vet with my Dad; she had no owner. She was paralysed, with tonnes of internal bleeding. It was a matter of time before she passed away from her injuries. She was put to sleep.
We arrived home, and my family proceeded to cook sausage sandwiches for lunch. I couldn't believe it. The next thing I heard stunned me.
"It's never a good thing when an animal suffers. We pride ourselves on the animal lives well." At the same time, the smell of pig flesh & crackling of animal fat filled the room.
I think the hardest thing about being a vegan is not the protein, the inconvenience of mentioning you need vegan options or the mindless debates you have with people who think they know better.
It's the feeling that you are crazy for being consistent.
People will pet their cats and dogs, then eat someone else in their other hand. Animals are animals, goddamn it. Pigs, cows, sheep & chickens are as innovative as our cats and dogs. The difference is if they are assigned "family members" or "meat" at birth. The ones you assign to as "meat/milk/egg production" are all brutally killed. Local, international, humane, grass-fed, factory-farmed, whatever - all of them will die. They smell the blood, hear the screams, watch their friends get skinned and cut up, and then are stabbed and decapitated, regardless of their background. Where is the humane compassion in that? At least be consistent.
Besides, if you're all for meat, why does animal welfare even matter? It's going to be dead, anyway. The cat has served its purpose. It can no longer catch mice. Why didn't I just stop my car and reverse over the top of this cat, crushing its little head under my wheel? Why didn't I stamp on it? It's only a barn cat, after all.
Who cares?
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