10:16 a.m. - 2003-10-08
Irony
I wandered through the aisles talking to the sheep. The sheep didn't seem too traumatized, but then, most of them had company. Some of them had things to say, others did not. One talked about fields of dew-strewn green grass and asked me if there was such a thing; I told her that everything that you truly believe in exists. Another one spoke of running water and sunlight, but when I asked her if she was happy, she only laughed and said, "What else is there?" One small sheep who may or may not have been a lamb (being part Southern does not make me agriculturally inclined in spite of a year in Animal Science) was in solitary confinement, but refused to discuss it and insisted that I describe in detail the configuration of most gumball machines.

They had the sow in a tiny barred compartment that wouldn't even qualify as a cage; she was lying down, as there wasn't enough room for her to do otherwise. The nine piglets that they claimed were all there crowded around as best they could; the innocent have no concept of real suffering. They tumbled like puppies at their mother's side while she dreamt of warm mud. Farther on, eight-day old rabbits slumbered in a box; nearby, their mother, sister to the sow by circumstances, imagined dark burrows far from prying eyes and wondered if there was such a thing anywhere beyond myth.

The horse wanted only to roll around a bit and scratch his back, but the imposing crate forbid this. Instead of fragrant grass and loam, he was forced to settle for stagnant hay; he tried to make the best of the situation, as horses often do. His hooves clattered against the walls as he lolled helplessly...at least he was pretty.

The sun was bright. People were happy. "Be Kind to Your Web-Footed Friends" was heard in the background.

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