***
every animal should get to
feel what it is like to die.
shooting to kill robs them
of the ability to appreciate
life- you are a wizzard, you
scream like a rabbit. go sleep,
go get a glimpse. go, go,
go do.
c'est seulement une petite mort
à peine important
à peine valable
il ne sera jamais beaucoup
il ne sera jamais quelque chose
à peine important
à peine valable
il ne sera jamais beaucoup
il ne sera jamais quelque chose
***
7 comments:
steph, this is SO beautiful. excuse me while i pull my jaw from the floor.
miss you,
E
i've missed you, E.
One of my most powerful childhood memories is watching my favorite dog, a dog I'd brought home from his mom, and at the time really considered "my" dog - a cocker spaniel aptly named Gille - rip apart this squirrel after we'd trapped it in the orchard.
I must have been... 3? 4?...
Hours later, my Uncle apologized for having let me see Gille go at it with the squirrel. But... I understood.
And in retrospect, I understand even more. The threat to the trees. The damage to the gardens.
But nothing I can phrase matches my uniquely-childhood naive horror and confusion that I felt watching Gille end that squirrel's life.
I pour my heart out, and spambot replies. Not sure whether I should be offended, or as a sign of the modern age, flattered.
Or probably, just angry at the modern age.
/ rediscovering the lost ages. Baroque, and the uncharted lands of 4B and beyond.
were you responsible for trapping the squirrel?
Naw, I didnt set the trap. I'm not too keen on killing animals unless they're about to be eaten. Or so goes my philosophy... but then again maybe I'd just go hunt-crazy if handed a 12 gauge in huntin' season.
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