Thirty years ago this month I made the decision to go vegan, so for the entirety of August I’ll be celebrating this thirtieth anniversary by sharing some of the many experiences I’ve had.
When asked why I decided to do it, my answer has been consistent: I don’t like the modern mistreatment of animals.
But I also used to say, “It’s not that I don’t believe in eating meat. It happens all the time in nature. We could be treating animals so much better before killing them for their meat. If I knew an animal was treated very well and killed humanely (i.e. they never felt a thing) I would consider eating that meat.”
One day, that stance was put to the test.
Good friends of mine informed me of a farm they’d visited that allowed you to sponsor one of their pigs. For whatever sum they asked, the pig would be treated very well, killed humanely, and their meat would be yours. Having heard my hypothetical meat-eating condition for years, they asked if I wanted to go in on a sponsorship.
The only thing I could say, without even considering it, was “Can’t we just keep the pig instead?”
So it turns out I’m either too sensitive or too full of shit. Probably both. But I’m glad that my instant reaction was to want to save an animal instead of paying to have it slaughtered in any form. I’m pleased to know that about myself.