I've now killed four little mice in traps in the pantry. Each rigid corpse has looked up at me with sadder, more mournful eyes than the last. I'm just about ready to share my Cheerios and try to live in harmony.
Last night's slow-cooked pot roast turned out well. I guess I don't have the same qualms about dead cows.
1 comment:
And if you read the The Tale of Despereaux you will feel even worse...
isabelle
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