Free Pansy by Charles Hayes Page B

Mandy,” Ed tried to reason, “we are not an assembly-line industrial ranch. We aren’t going to kill people, and you are quoting a book with a title that puts animals on a pedestal with people.”
    "That's not what he's doing at all,” Mandy countered. “He is simply making the case that the way we treat animals sets us up psychologically to take the inhumane steps necessary for genocide. If you’re insulted by the title, maybe you should look at it the other way around. Why do you have such a low opinion of life that's not human? Besides, if life has no real meaning for animals, why do you suppose they try so hard to stay alive? Why is genocide something only people do? You say we’re not an inhumane operation, but you’ve contracted with an assembly-line slaughterhouse."
    "Yes, Mandy, but that's not the same thing." Ed was trying to keep his voice calm.
    "Same as what?" Mandy asked.
    "The same as the big slaughterhouse operations. We're just not like that, Mandy."
    Hoping to steer clear of a fight, Randy chimed in, "I've been reading up lately about genocide, and until a couple of months ago, I had never heard the word. Now I think about it a lot."
    “The majority of slaughterhouses, are assembly-line factories,” Mandy continued. “Surely all of you know this is true. Doesn’t it also make sense that deadening our feelings about killing animals in a barbaric way leads to insensitivity toward people?”
    Ed started to speak, but Mandy kept talking. “Did you know that veal calves are killed when they’re only a few days old, and the ones that are allowed to live longer are kept where they can’t even move or turn around?”
    “Yes,” Randy said, “but we don’t do that.”
    “No, but we feed the appetite for meat. You think cows don’t know they’re going to their death when they watch the ones in front of them being slaughtered?”
    “No, I don’t think they’re that smart.” Randy shook his head, and Ed and grunted in agreement.
    “Well, they are,” said Mandy. “They run away from slaughterhouses all of the time.”
    “They don’t either,” Ed said with an expression on his face that seemed to imply he couldn't decide whether to smile or look concerned.
    “Yes, they do. Look it up. Google it, both of you. See for yourselves.” Mandy pushed her chair back, signaling dinner was over, and turned to Nadia. “Would you like to go for a walk with Pansy and me?”
    Nadia didn’t wait for Randy to protest. “Sure, I go with you.”

A Confession
     
    A couple of weeks later, one of Ed’s prize bulls was missing, so he and Randy mounted their four-wheelers and rode most of the area suitable for riding. With no sign of the bull, they parked the vehicles and began to walk the fence line. A half-mile into the woods they found him tangled in wire left over from repairing the fence. He wasn’t hurt yet, just caught and unable to free himself. They cut away the wire, and the bull headed back toward the barn. “Should have never left that stuff out here,” said Ed.
    “I’ll bring a four-wheeler as close as I can and come back and get it,” Randy offered.
    They walked in silence for a while. Finally, Randy said, “You know those medals I got in the war?”
    “Sure, what about them?”
    “I didn’t deserve them.”
    “The hell you didn’t,” Ed protested, “I read the citations.”
    “Yeah, but they don’t tell what should have been reported. We were brutal far beyond what was called for. There were times when, if it moved we killed it. Man, woman, child, dog, it didn’t matter. How are you supposed feel about that when you’ve had time to think about it?”
    “Well, you know what they say about war being hell. Nobody is going to second-guess what you guys did over there.”
    “Well, if they did, many of the guys in my outfit would face criminal charges.” Randy kicked a stone down the path.
    “Put it out of your mind.”
    “That’s the one thing I can’t do. In one of those