I am not a vegetarian.

So yesterday evening I had an experience that I probably could have done without. Chris and I went over to his parents house after supper to see how the building of their deck is going. As we drove up their driveway, we noticed a raccoon laying in the middle of the parking area. First thought: Is he dead? Did the cats really manage to take down a raccoon during their late night hunts? But anyway, he moved his head and looked at us so obviously he wasn't dead. But he was sick. Chris's dad told us that he had been around since about 4:30am and he had seen him fall out of a small tree and take convulsions at around 8am. The poor raccoon had been stumbling around all day like he was drunk. A while after we got there the poor thing took more convulsions so it was decided  that it was probably time to put it out of its misery... and out came the handgun. Great. This type of thing does not sit well with me and I prefer to have no part in it, so I went in the house with Chris's mom and Lesley.

Now, just to be clear, I am not against killing animals. And by that I mainly mean for food or out of necessity. I understand where my meat on my dinner plate comes from and I can accept that. The problem I face is in the actual moment of the killing of an animal. I am uncomfortable with someone being responsible for that moment of death. I can handle life or death separately, but I dislike the moment where life turns into death.

A couple of summers ago I was driving from my parents house late at night and Chris was in the passengers seat. I rounded a dark turn and a bunny was in my path. I struggled in my split second decision. I thought there was a car behind me (turns out he had turned off anyway), and Chris was there so I was unwillingly to slam on the brakes and risk the safety of the people around me. So I hit the bunny. It was awful. I drove a few hundred feet and then had to pull over because I was pretty much hysterical at that point. I was afraid he had a bunny family that he was leaving behind, I was afraid he suffered, and I was afraid to have to drive past him everyday because I frequented that road so much. Chris told me to calm down and he walked back in the dark trying to find where the bunny had been, and he picked it up and threw it in the woods for me. That's love for ya folks. Picking up dead bunnies that your partner just ran over over. Doesn't get much more romantic than that.

But anyway, I felt awful about being the cause of that moment between a life and it's death. Sometimes I even feel bad when I either intentionally or unintentionally kill plants. I guess Serial Killer is off my list of potential careers. Oh well!