Animal Writings

I may be too late for this, but I wanted you all to know about a wonderful program from Dogs Deserve Better (DDB) that may bring some love into the lives of chained dogs. Have A Heart for Chained Dogs Week sends Valentine's Day cards to chained dogs. Many of the cards are made by children, and they include a brochure and doggie treat.

Among other things, DDB wants addresses of dogs who are confined to a chain or pen, so they can receive their special gift, and so their families (or prospective families) may be moved to bring their dog inside, where they can be part of the household. Note that you remain anonymous when you do this. In fact, no names have to be mentioned; the card can be addressed to "Caretaker."

According to one email I received,


Here is a wrap-up of last year's event.

Dogs are highly social creatures. To be a dog and spend day after day on the end of a tether—alone—is to live a sorrowful and joyless life. It is not an exaggeration to say that chaining your dog for prolonged periods is a slow form of emotional torture. Furthermore, chained dogs cannot escape from danger, including mean humans; in many cases, the psychological damage from the fear and immobility may be greater than the physical harm. Chained dogs are also a risk to people, including children. Read more about this and other reasons why you shouldn't chain your dogs in The Facts About Chaining or Tethering Dogs, from the Humane Society of the United States.

Here's something more uplifting: Dogs who were rescued from life on a chain; stories in which human kindness and respect overcame human heartlessness and callousness. Let's create more of these success stories! If you can't participate directly in Have A Heart for Chained Dogs Week, you can still make a donation or buy merchandise from the Dogs Deserve Better store. Do you know a chained dog whom you want to help? Here's how.

Let's turn heartbreak into heartwarming successes!

Labels: chained dogs, dogs, Dogs Deserve Better, valentine, Valentine's Day

Dog and cat rescues (and anyone): Please help us stop Petsmart from selling rabbits and other animals.

At the end of this post is contact information. If you must dash off, you can skip to there. Otherwise, if you can spare a couple minutes, please read the background info. Thank you!

Petsmart is embarking on a program to sell dwarf rabbits in some of its stores. They are getting the rabbits from Marshall "Farms," a notorious breeding mill with multiple animal welfare violations that raises beagles and ferrets in small wire cages and sells them to product testing laboratories. These labs are tightly sealed but we know from numerous undercover investigations that horrors often take place inside them. (That's why they're so inaccessible—to hide the animals' misery from the public.)

Dwarf rabbits, because of their small size, suffer more dental problems and thus require more veterinary care than most larger companion rabbits. They also are more likely to be picked up, mishandled, and injured by young children. Rabbits are ground-dwelling prey animals and may be frightened when scooped up. In response, they may defend themselves by biting.

The rabbits sold at Petsmart will be spayed and neutered at—get this—one month old. That is reckless. If they waited longer, as virtually all reputable rabbit veterinarians do, they would have to spend more on the rabbits' care; plus they know that baby rabbits sell more quickly than adult ones.

Petsmart offers a ludicrously short 14-day window in which buyers can return rabbits. After that, if the family decides it didn't really want a rabbit, the animals' fate is anyone's guess and is not Petsmart's concern. The "lucky" ones will show up at already overburdened rabbit rescue groups. Others will be euthanized—killed. Anyone in rabbit rescue knows that at 14 days, the novelty of having a rabbit still hasn't worn off. People who buy rabbits on impulse or who have done no research on caring for companion rabbits and have ignorant, unrealistic expectations generally begin their gradual abandonment and neglect of the rabbit after the 14-day period. Petsmart's "guarantee" is a callous and disingenuous smokescreen.

We've seen the unlucky rabbits too often: Rabbits relegated to the garage, given stale pizza crusts; rabbits with broken legs from being dropped, receiving no veterinary care; rabbits stuck for life in filth-encrusted cages; and so forth. It's heartbreaking.

Then there are the rabbits who are basically kicked out the back door. The humans who expel them may superficially fool themselves by telling themselves that companion rabbits can survive outside. But a rabbit suddenly pushed out of his home, and having no experience surviving on his own, will be terrified and bewildered, and probably die by predation or by being hit by a car within two or three days. We see this all the time. My rabbit was found on the side of the highway—tame as can be. Domesticated rabbits are not wild cottontails.

As with all the animals they sell, Petsmart will do no careful screening of buyers, and no home visits. Their salespeople will not sit down with prospective buyers to determine whether they are aware of the time and cost commitment necessary for responsible rabbit care. Petsmart will not require buyers to sign a contract or even to purchase books on rabbit care or rabbit health. Buyers may not know that companion rabbits must be fed alfalfa hay up to a certain age and timothy hay thereafter—and that this is the most important part of a companion rabbit's diet. Buyers may have no idea that rabbits are insatiably curious and need stimulation, variety, and space. They may not even know that rooms in which the rabbit is allowed to run free—and the rabbit must be allowed to run free to have any quality of life—should be "rabbit-proofed" beforehand. Will adopters know when to take their new life, for which they're responsible, to the vet? And not just any vet—rabbits must be treated by veterinarians who have specific training and experience in rabbit health, diseases, and medications. In fact, will buyers even know that a well-cared-for rabbit may live over ten years? ("Well-cared-for" is the key phrase.)

Will unprepared, untrained, uninvolved dismiss their rabbit, who's stuck in a cage and never has an opportunity to play or explore, as "mean," when in fact he's miserable and in chronic pain, and needs to see a vet? If only I had a nickel for every time someone claimed a rabbit was "mean" and the rabbit turned out to be the sweetest thing as soon as he was treated right.

Petsmart's plan is a recipe for disaster and suffering. And death. A popular national chain adding to the companion rabbit overpopulation is about the worst thing that could happen to rabbit rescue groups and shelters that house rabbits. We are already at or over capacity. Compared to cats and dogs, it is exceedingly difficult to find good homes for rabbits. So many people don't know about rabbits or are clueless about how to take care of them.

Petsmart is not only betraying the rabbit rescue community—they are betraying the entire animal rescue community. They have said in the past that they have no plans to sell rabbits, and rabbit groups across the country have developed a relationship with the company, holding adoption events in Petsmart stores and informing adopters and applicants that they can buy supplies such as litter and toys at Petsmart. But this is worse than a slap in the face to rescue groups. It's really a betrayal of the rabbits themselves. Profit before welfare. Profit instead of compassion or integrity.

If Petsmart makes money selling rabbits, why wouldn't they sell guinea pigs next year? Or hypoallergenic cats for 300 dollars a piece the year after that? What's the difference between rabbits and cats and dogs? Ethically, none. And for that matter, there's no difference between the aforementioned animals and ferrets, mice, or birds. Or any other animal sold at Petsmart. In a follow-up post, I'll report on the suffering and horrendous treatment of hamsters and other "pocket pets" at Petsmart.

The best way to stop Petsmart from going on with this ill-conceived plan may be for the cat and dog groups to complain, or to threaten to pull out - that is, to threaten to cease doing adoptions at Petsmart - unless Petsmart pulls the plug on selling rabbits. I realize that to make good on such a threat is easier for some groups than others. Whatever you can do will be appreciated.

In fact, perhaps now is the time for all rescue groups and all animal shelters to put their foot down, to speak up for all companion animals, and to tell Petsmart management that they'll look for other venues unless Petsmart stops selling animals, period. Perhaps you've seen what I've seen at cat or dog adoption fairs: Mice pulled out and stuck in a box, sold for a few dollars, virtually no questions asked, as if selling batteries or some other inanimate merchandise. Bonded pairs of animals broken up, leaving the remaining animal to become morose or go crazy. Frustrated birds squawking day after day in small, crowded cages. And so on. And like I said before, wait till you see what goes on in the back rooms.

One more note before the contact info: Petsmart Charities, which is distinct from Petsmart, is also opposed to Petsmart's plan to sell rabbits. Apparently Petsmart is ignoring their concerns and their recommendations.

Contact Info

All the contact information is on this dedicated page from RabbitWise, Inc: — Why PetSmart is Pet Stupid! The page contains a wealth of information about how organizations and individuals across the county are protesting PetSmart's misguided plan of betrayal.

For convenience, here's how to contact PetSmart electronically:

www.petsmart.com/global/customerservice/contactUsForm.jsp

And here is their snail mail:

PetSmart, Inc.
19601 North 27th Avenue
Phoenix, AZ 85027

If you write, send your letters to the attention of Robert F., Moran, President and Chief Operating Officer.

Additional contact information is on the RabbitWise site.

Finally, although this link is also on the RabbitWise page, if you get a chance, please read this blog post which discusses the tragedy of mass-selling rabbits to ill-prepared, incompetent, and uncaring buyers: Tell Petsmart Not To Sell Rabbits

Thank you SO MUCH for speaking up for rabbits!

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Labels: activism, bunnies, cats, companion animals, dogs, rabbits

If you're vegan or involved in animal advocacy, your experience may be similar to mine: It seems like all my non-vegan friends, relatives, and co-workers want to know my take on the Michael Vick case.

They are, to a person, appalled at the hideous and callous cruelties inflicted on the dogs who lived — and who were killed — on Mr. Vick's property. Usually they condemn dogfighting and indicate that they think it should be outlawed.

I thank the person with whom I'm talking for his or her concern for animal welfare, and typically express my thought that the silver lining in all this is that it is making people aware of a widespread heinous practice, and that hopefully this new awareness will translate into stronger anti-dogfighting and anti-animal cruelty legislation and enforcement.

But then I let them know that:

• Tortures on a par with or much worse than those inflicted on Michael Vick’s dogs happen every day – every hour – at slaughterhouses.


• For the most part...Unlike the cruelties that occurred on Michael Vick’s property, the suffering and slaughter of farm animals is a direct result of our purchasing decisions, and we have the power to undo all those wrongs by buying vegan alternatives instead — and it’s not that hard, and there’s plenty of support and guidance available, including from me. (At this point I may hand out some vegetarian literature if it feels right — I try to keep some handy at all times.)

The Vick tragedy, awful as it is, provides us with an opportunity to ask the rhetorical question: Ethically, what is the difference between a dog and a pig?

Why do people detest dogfighting but eat pigs and chicken? Here are three reasons:

1. There is no conflict of interest when condemning dogfighting. People (in the West) don’t eat dogs or knowingly wear their skin. There is no implied self-incrimination when meat-eaters—sincerely—condemn dogfighting.


2. Tens of millions of households have dogs as family members.


3. People are conditioned to think of pigs and chickens (and cows and so forth) as "food animals." Eating meat seems as natural as breathing to most people. And humans are frighteningly good at compartmentalizing, for example pushing thoughts about the suffering and killing of farmed animals out of their minds.

I’m not defending any of the above reasoning, but I think it's important that we understand the psychology of meat-eating so that we may become more adept at wresting people away from this cruel and destructive addiction.

One last thing: Although there is some circumstantial evidence that looks like it may implicate Michael Vick, he has not yet had his day in court. I try to focus on the issue, not the person, as I think this will a) better convey that the Vick incident is not an isolated case, b) avoid getting us sidetracked on "Is he guilty?"

Labels: advocacy, dogfighting, dogs, farmed animals

A few years ago, the rabbit rescue group for which I volunteer adopted out a rabbit to a family that had a great dane. The rabbit and the great dane became best friends. They would hang out together, groom each other, and nuzzle up against one another. The rabbit was the dominant of the pair!

One day the great dane had to stay overnight at the vet's. In his kennel, it was clear that he missed his little friend. He just wasn't himself. The rabbit, from her demeanor and sudden lack of appetite, was also upset.

So they brought the rabbit, and her litter box and hay and so forth, to the vet's office to spend the night with her friend. The great dane's spirits lifted immediately, and so did the rabbit's. The two of them, in the kennel, apparently stayed side by side the entire night.

Last I heard, rabbit and great dane were doing great and still the best of friends.

Labels: dog, dogs, friendship, interspecies, interspecies friendship, rabbit, rabbits

I'd like to interrupt the previous post—which I'm still working on even though my heart is not into it like it was when I first thought of it, but which I will finish! Even if it's at the rate of one sentence per day.

Here's one short excerpt—and the highlight of my night—from a conversation I had with my 13-year old niece earlier this evening:

Her: So when it says "free-range," does that really mean the animals get to run around?

Me: Well, tell me, what do you think?

Her: Umm...no.

That was beautiful. And it was another example of what I wrote about a few posts ago: Way more often than not, I find out that people are not really fooled by "free-range." They sort of hope it's true, and perhaps talk themselves into believing it, and probably shove the darker thoughts out of their minds—for the usual reasons—but they are not fully buying it.

There is a skepticism taking hold of consumers about the food they buy, and maybe this has been fueled by finding out that food producers have hid the ugly truth about battery cages and pig gestation crates for all these years, or by reading stories on massive pollution from industrial farms, or genetically modified organisms and fish genes in tomatoes, and cloning, and bird flu and mad cow disease, and e coli; and exposes on fur mislabeling scams and the Chinese killing dogs and cats for fur coats. And maybe it's just the accumulation of every animal activist spreading the word, from Compassion Over Killing feed-ins to PETA2 and myspace pages, to animal sanctuary "fun runs" and visitor events, to good-tasting vegan foods in stores, to protests in front of the National Zoo when their arthritis-stricken elephant in her tiny quarters died prematurely, to humane education programs in shelters, to one-on-one vegan outreach, and everything else.

Despite meat and dairy's persistent popularity, I can understand why those industries and other various animal exploitation industries are worried about animal protection groups—all animal protection groups—and the animal rights movement in general. One by one, animal abuses that were accepted without question 15 years ago, or even a few years ago are now being questioned, doubted, evaluated, and in some cases, outright rejected—not just by a pocket of voters but by increasingly wide cross-sections of the populace.

The beginning of the end is not necessarily dramatic. It's a million small increments in scattered places. No, the country is not on the brink of veganism, but I have a definite sense that they are not as wedded to meat as they were 5 years ago, not to mention when I was growing up and there was no thing as vegan cheese and vegan meatballs, when there was no such thing as vegetarian main course alternatives in school cafeterias, when almost none of the animal protection and animal rights groups today existed.

We're doing something right and I hope we keep pushing forward, and I hope more and more people are inspired to join us in protests and leafleting and writing letters and sharing vegan food, and I hope the movement—and despite factions in the movement, from outside it is one movement—swells and person-by-person becomes the conventional wisdom. And every now and then, we animal activists need to acknowledge that there are changes happening, and that we're improving the world, and give ourselves a pat on the back, and give sincere recognition to the activists next to us, or who we'll next meet.

Now let me back up a bit. I dreaded this evening because it was my extended family's annual Easter dinner. Easter is the most ironically cruel holiday. It celebrates the Prince of Peace by indulging in some of the world's most viciously produced foods. I dreaded seeing the ham on the buffet table—the cut-up corpse of a tortured and brutally killed soul.

Well, this year they had no ham. They had two kinds of lasagna—and one was vegan, with Follow Your Heart cheese. When I arrived, my niece asked how Mike the Cat and Fiona the Bunny were doing. And I told her how Mike was famous now—internationally!—because he had his picture in a Canadian newspaper, and how the fame had gone to his head. And I "just happened" to have that picture of him, peering out of his cat condo cubby hole, and she put it on on the refrigerator.

After dinner, she asked if I'd been protesting the circus. You better believe it. A bunch of folks, in spontaneous grassroots fashion, have been protesting Ringling, holding up signs and handing out literature from PETA and the Animal Protection Institute. She asked if people were responding. I said yes, but these things take time. Gradually the circus was de-emphasizing animal acts, a couple of troupes have discontinued using animals, and one of the venues in DC announced that this would be the last year it would host the Ringling circus.

She asked about how they treat the animals, and in a manner I felt was appropriate for a 13-year old, I told her the basics—most of which she knew! She asked if there were any laws protecting the circus animals. I told her in so many ways, not enough, and how the system was not really set up in animals' favor (e.g., the USDA, which is charged with enforcing the Animal Welfare Act, is a partner with Ringling in one of their training facilities in Florida), and that even when you pass a law, a) it has to be enforced, b) the punishment has to be enough to be a deterrent, and if we're talking about the circus, in the cases where a circus is found guilty of a violation, they usually pay a reduced fine and shrug it off.

She asked about the treatment of lions and tigers in the circus: cages, isolation, not even remotely sufficient opportunity for exercise and mental stimulation, documented cruel training methods.

She then asked about aquariums. I told her how they typically kidnap dolphins from their families. We agreed that the fish have far too little room, and to keep them in such small quarters was cruel and made for a lousy quality of life. She went further and said that she didn't think it was right to keep fish who normally would swim in open waters confined to a tank.

We talked about zoos, and I mentioned how some zoos were deciding it was too cruel to keep elephants. We talked about elephants' intelligence and social needs, and how they are built to move.

She told me about the time she went to Busch Gardens and saw the wolf exhibit. The wolf was in a small pen, and there was no soft ground. She was sad and angry, and I shared in those emotions. We knew it was wrong.

She said she was interested in volunteering at an animal shelter, and we talked about some of the possibilities and limitations for someone her age. I also told her that sometimes volunteering means sorting papers and sweeping floors—it's not all walking dogs. I think she understood and accepted that. She told me how she and a friend pet-sit all the dogs in the neighborhood, and that she was hoping her family would let her adopt two dogs—mixed-breed. She said she loved mutts. Two dogs so they could play with and be with each other when no one was home. I was beaming with pride. Man, was I proud.

She was starting to tell me about how she had cut out certain meat products, when we were called in for dessert. My in-laws presented the traditional—and quite large—chocolate Easter bunny. Only this year, it was not milk chocolate. It was dark chocolate. And not just any dark chocolate, but Belgian dark chocolate.

On the way home, with a smile on my face and a positive feeling inside, I randomly turned on the radio, to a station that usually plays boring classic rock. They were playing live selections from the Allman Brothers, featuring tunes from Eat a Peach and their 1969 self-titled debut album. It rocked. I grew up and became interested in guitar and the blues partly because of those albums.

This was my best Easter ever.

It is wonderful to see young eyes opening up, questioning society's habits that don't seem right. I've known her since she was born, and since she was a little girl she's always demonstrated an active and probing conscience, and an independence. But she's not a loner or a recluse. She's busy with all sorts of activities and has lots of friends.

She's known that I'm involved with animals, but other than companion animal care, we've never spent much time discussing it. Tonight almost felt like a coming of age, like she's coming into her own. Again, I was extra careful to attenuate the conversation so that it was suitable for a 13-year old niece. I omitted tons of stuff, and asked her lots of open questions. But—and I realize I'm bragging, sorry—it was obvious to me that her interest and intelligence is very much propelling her to make these inquiries and that her emerging thoughts about how to respond to obvious injustices and cruelty appears to be very self-motivated at this point.

Toward the end of our conversation, another of my nieces, who typically has not been as interested in these things, wandered over and I could tell she was being influenced by niece number one. She even chimed in to say that she didn't like zoos, animal circuses, or aquariums, and would never visit them. The next generation is preparing to act and make their mark. Tonight I saw compassion and conviction blooming and taking root, and it lifted my spirits immensely.

Maybe one day Easter will be celebrated appropriately. Perhaps when my niece is old enough, she'll carry on the tradition but the food will be purely vegetarian, sparing the lives of "the least of these," and the before-dinner prayer will be about extending mercy to those who depend on us being merciful, including animals. Maybe one day we will all join hands -- and live in peace and harmony with all the beings of the planet.

Labels: advocacy, aquariums, circuses, dogs, Easter, family, holidays, peace, shelters, welfare, youth, zoos

From time to time I think about this and discuss it... Many animal advocates and vegans take in homeless companion animals. Most adopt through a shelter or rescue group. Some rescue strays or manage feral cat colonies, others foster animals whose time has run out at the shelter, or give up a room for a few days so a spayed feral cat can recover before going back outside.

All are aware that in addition to our dogs happily going on walks each day, our cats playing with wand toys and scratching on their posts, our rabbits munching on timothy hay and investigating tunnels and cardboard boxes, millions of companion animals are stuck in poorly-funded pounds, or are slaves to the puppy mill industry, where they live in confined filth. Or they are killed by the most crude and barbaric methods for their meat or fur. The suffering is constant and horrific and intolerable, the death toll every year is in the hundreds of millions. Far beyond the walls of our peaceful abodes and well cared-for animals, is a nightmare. The nightmare is real and continuous.

Add to that the fate of billions of animals in factory farms, fur operations, roadside zoos, rodeos, and other venues of animal abuse, and the numbers, and the misery—all human-caused—becomes incomprehensible.

So there are countless animals that we confine to horrid situations and short lives, and it is pervasive, and un-ending, and yet right in front of us is this one animal—loved, precious, beautiful. Unique. An ambassador, perhaps, for all animals. One lucky individual, free from all the various institutions that treat animals as expendable commodities, as disposable inventory, as things. The animal in front of us may never suffer. She has veterinary care. She has toys and soft places to lay her head. We talk to her and play with her and clip her nails and make sure her ears are clean. We empty her litter box and brush her and sing funny songs to her and pet her. She knows human kindness, not human meanness. She has someone who loves her, who will take care of her, who is committed to her.

It is easy, when we're face-to-face with our animal companions, snuggling or simply relaxing and doing mundane things, to forget about all the horrors that lie in the dark distance. It's easy to imagine all life is this peaceful and harmonious. Yet the back of our minds can't forget, the pit of our stomachs cannot become completely un-traumatized, the hole in our hearts can never be repaired. The suffering is too great. Even if it stopped tomorrow, the trillion or more who lived joyless, pain-filled lives and were brutally killed, without anyone ever caring one bit about them, cannot be brought back. The atrocities cannot be un-done.

We do what we can. We tell friends, relatives, and co-workers about the treatment of farm animals—babies stolen from mothers, newborn chicks suffocated, hens burned to death, veal calves too weak to stand sleeping in their own urine, animals whose horns, beaks, toes, and tails are severed, and who are castrated with no pain relief, animals dying at all stages of their lives from their human-imposed giganticness, animals panting and collapsing and dying in transport, hanging animals screaming as they bleed and thrashing as they drown in boiling water. We tell them about vegan meat substitutes and soy and almond milk; we point them to vegan recipe sites, we cook delicious vegan meals for them and they say, "Wow, this is good, but I could never do it." We hand out vegetarian guides to passers-by on the street. We write to food section editors and restaurant managers and members of congress, hoping they'll take some small step—at least—to make our present world somewhat more humane. We sometimes wear ourselves out. Revolutions take time. As we know from history, societies cling to ingrained, accepted exploitations. They justify them, they engage in pervasive and extensive denial, they practically think of them as entitlements. They invent religious reasons for the most heinous cruelties while violating the most basic tenets of the religion.

So it gets tiring. But more than that it's sad. At the end of each day, despite our best—and sometimes valiant—efforts on behalf of the animals, they're still locked up. They're still in tiny crates. They're still grabbed in the middle of the night and thrown into cages and taken on a long truck ride. The slaughterhouse line is still running. It is always running somewhere. Millions of animals will have been killed while you're reading this post. The killing machine doesn't stop. Six- and seven-week old birds—some still peeping—are shackled; they have had impoverished lives of deprivation and denial, they have endured days of starvation and confinement and traveled in freezing cold and burning hot weather; and with their last energy they flap their wings—for most of the laying hens, this is the only time in their lives they'll get to flap their wings; then they're tortured. Torture is a big industry in America. We condemn torture on TV, but if the ones being tortured are non-humans, the torturers make billions of dollars and are afforded special legal protections. The person publicly denouncing torture may come home and support a different form of torture that night.

Ten more paragraphs. A hundred more paragraphs. A book. We could write from now until the day we die and it wouldn't even be one word per victim, and it wouldn't ever describe the horribleness of being treated like a commodity—worse than most property—and having your life taken away, being forced to exist in misery until your captors—your breeders who brought you into this earth solely to be destroyed and to serve them—could kill you and dig into your flesh.

Maybe we can grasp the indescribable sweetness of life and the unspeakable horror of mass killing by looking into the eyes of the animal in front of us. As I write this—in between typing sentences—I'm petting my bunny's nose. She closes her eyes and almost goes into a trance. How good that must feel, just a simple, caring stroke on the fur. Her sisters are suffering and their suffering is mass-ignored, and I wish I could reach out to them. I wish I had superpowers. Alas, all I can do right now is make this one bunny, rescued in the nick of time, feel great. So—like so many rescuers—I indulge her. I'm sure I overdo it. To make up for all the ones who weren't saved, who won't be saved, who will basically live in animal concentration camps and be killed in an assembly line. On and on it goes. When will it stop?

My funny little five-pound girl, with the ring of orange fur around her nose, hops on my lap, grooms me a while, then "presents" herself for more petting. Her turn. All right—how can I resist? So I pet her nose. And as she gets more relaxed, so do I. There is some peace and some good in the world. Isn't it better that we treat rabbits like this? I mean, doesn't it make so much more sense to pet their noses than to shoot them? Strangle them? Scrape their skin off before they're even dead? Doesn't it make more sense to be nice instead of mean? Isn't it more fulfilling? More right?

Her nose is resting on my knee now. She's in heaven, and watching her, so, almost, am I. If only all bunnies could know this. So I close my eyes as I stroke her nose and her forehead...and think of all the ones in their cages, all the ones who will be killed tomorrow, and who will never know this... and hope maybe they can feel it...when I pet my bunny's nose, I pet the noses of all the bunnies in the world, and every animal in every cage and confinement facility and laboratory, and every animal who was abused and abandoned, or the victim of human brutality...and we all close our eyes, and we all go to sleep, and we all know peace, and we all feel love.

Labels: cats, commodification, companion animals, dogs, fur, rabbits, vegan outreach