I have never touched a dog. Or a cat. Or an elephant.
People always seem shocked when they find out that I am not moved by “cute” pictures of puppies and kittens. And they want to know why. It’s very simple. I just don’t like animals.
I find them very creepy. And the one thing on my mind when I look at them is “How are they alive?” Like, how are you moving and breathing and living? Maybe I don’t just understand the concept of life. Because if you are alive, then you are just like me. And that’s weird.
For some reason, however, I’m fine with insects. I like ants, mostly. Every other class is just eerie. Everything with blood, I guess. Insects are cool. They aren’t that alive, you know. They don’t look at you and act like they could understand your life.
I remember the first and last chicken I picked up. I can’t remember his name, but I was forced to learn to kill it. Make no mistake, I wasn’t against killing the chicken. I was just against touching it. And when I held it, it was the weirdest feeling ever. It was warm. What did I expect, you might ask? I don’t know. I don’t go about touching animals in my spare time. But it was so warm and small, it felt like a living thing, like a baby. I have never picked up a chicken again. Such an uncanny experience.
Maybe I’m just scared that if I really look at them a certain way, I might find that they’re just like us. Less sentient but still very much alive.
And then one of two things will happen that will affect my carnivorous lifestyle. I’d have to become a vegetarian. Or accept cannibalism (since I’m eating alive kind). I do not particularly like either option.
What a dilemma.
