I was a vegetarian once before. It was hard, yet not hard. I was asked “Why?” a billion times. I didn’t mind answering at first but then after the umpteenth “inappropriate” response, I began to dread that question. To me, now, that question is like “Why are you [insert religion or political party]?” My reasons are many. Will you listen to them all or will you just hear the first and launch into why it’s bad? When I find a vegetarian, I love to ask the reasoning and hope that it’s more than health reasons. I look for inspiration everywhere.
I then tried to come up with an elevator-type speech — summation. Basically: “Because I can’t imagine eating my cat.” Right? To that, I sometimes got this pearl: “I’m vegetarian. Oh, but I eat chicken.” OK. I can’t imagine eating my Grandma’s pet bird either. I can’t imagine eating my pet fish. (Unfortunately, that fish that helped push me over the “undecided” fence passed away last year at the ripe old age of 7.) Once I was flesh-free, it was hard justifying drinking milk or eating eggs.
This weekend, as mentioned, I went to the local city-run farm. It’s brilliant. The animals were so friendly! The deer pranced up and reached his muzzle out for a nuzzle like we had been forever friends. The rooster strutted over to show off his beautiful feathers. The turkey paused in his show-off dance to come near the fence. The cow tried to lick my lens — and got my hand instead. (Cow snot is not exactly pleasant but I appreciate the love.)
What’s a vegetarian trapped inside an omnivore to do?
Perhaps more importantly, what’s a vegetarian trapped inside an omnivore living with a “oh no, not vegetarianism again” person? 🙂