
During the course of this blogging adventure, I have become acquainted with a number of very cool and interesting people. I have been corresponding most often with one woman in particular who asked me about what first influenced me to become vegan, and in answering her it has made me reflect upon a number of things. I took a survey not that long ago put together by a graduate student from I can't remember where, that was trying to measure a number of things, one of them being whether or not vegans fully disclose the reasons why they became vegan to their vegan friends in the same way as to their non-vegan friends. And in answering the questions I had to admit, it really depends.
I think often I am wary of getting too explicit with non-vegan/vegetarian people, especially if I don't know them very well, for fear of alienating them. And so I am careful in my approach and how I explain things. And, the other thing is that there are a number of reasons why being vegan makes sense to me, whether in terms of my health, the environment, or for spiritual and moral reasons. I always say the main reason is because I seek consistency within myself. I am not comfortable doing something that goes against what I feel is right or that conflicts with my own sense of integrity.
One thing that really impacted my life, something I have never ever really gotten over, started when I was ten years old and we moved to a small town in West Texas, a mere speck on the map of that gargantuan state, a town called Bronte. I have to admit, as much as I have hidden these photographs from those bygone years, I was truly a nerd-child. A book-loving, ugly-80s-glasses-wearing, Little-Miss-Sunshine child, who loved animals and read all the time. I was ecstatic that we were moving to a town that I was sure had to have been named after one of the amazing Bronte sisters. Since we were trying the "out in the country" living experiment, my parents let my sister and I adopt two baby Barbado ewes that were so little we had to bottle feed them. I of course named mine Emily.

Once I started school, my romantic dreams were dashed as reality set in. I was saddened to discover the locals did not pronounce Bronte in the way that those beloved sisters did, but rather were living in "Brawnt," and everyone thought my accent was so funny that I must be from "Ing-lund." None of my classmates had heard of Wuthering Heights, let alone read it. I came home from school that first day with two burning questions for my parents: 1) Had I been saved? and 2)Who was I kin to?
Despite this culture shock, the year we spent in Bronte was a happy one. We ended up rescuing two baby rams who also had to be bottle-fed, and before long we had a happy family with four sheep. They were awesome. People who say sheep are stupid have never really given them a chance. My Emily was so smart and sweet and full of personality. Each of the sheep had their own unique temperament and way of expressing themselves. One of the rams did a little dance when he got excited; my sister's ewe was very vocal and was sure to chime in a "baaahh!" whenever we argued. They loved running and playing chase and got excited by the thunderstorms. They were perfect childhood playmates. I m forever grateful to my parents that we had the chance to experience living in Bronte that year.
After a little more than a year we ended up moving to a bigger city and left our country house behind. I was devastated at the idea of saying goodbye to the sheep and to my precious Emily. That last day before they were picked up by their new "owners," my mother took a bunch of photographs of them, starting when they were in the far end of the corral, snapping the pictures quickly, one after another, as they ran closer and closer all together to greet us, excitedly, vibrant and funny, jumping and dancing and full of life. I cried so hard watching them as they rode away in the back of a truck. I wasn't alone in my grief, and the rest of my family was also saddened that we had to part with our wonderful pets.
I harbored illusions that they had gone off to be someone else's pet, and it took me quite awhile before I fully realized they probably wound up as someone's dinner. I knew I would never eat lamb and the idea that anyone would seemed as bizarre to me as eating the family dog.
I harbored illusions that they had gone off to be someone else's pet, and it took me quite awhile before I fully realized they probably wound up as someone's dinner. I knew I would never eat lamb and the idea that anyone would seemed as bizarre to me as eating the family dog.
Pre-digital camera days, we took the film to the drugstore to get the pictures developed several weeks later. I couldn't wait to see how they turned out, but there had been a mix-up and we had someone else's pictures--a little child's family birthday party. We took the pictures back to the store in the hopes that the family would do the same. I imagined this family picking up their pictures, expecting to see birthday photographs, shocked and confused at having instead a bunch of pictures of running jumping prancing sheep. I thought they might do the same as us and return the snapshots, but they never did and we never saw those pictures. Those images have remained with me, however, even after all these years.
I don't believe in being preachy. I know that everyone is different and people choose what feels right to them, and that many truths are subjective. I also know there are so many good, wonderful, loving and loyal people who are omnivorous and have no desire to be vegetarian, let alone vegan. And these are people I love and respect. But in reflecting upon some of the reasons why I am who I am today, I must admit I have never understood the logic behind what makes one animal a pet and another food.
People will often cry at sad stories of a child who lost his beloved dog, but if it is a cow or sheep or chicken, it doesn't resonate the same way. And they may say that is because they are not "companion" animals. But I think that is because people are conditioned to see what they expect, and no one likes the cognitive dissonance that could result from eating a companion animal. For I know that I have never had a friend like Emily, neither before nor since. I think even if I had never known her, I would have wound up vegan eventually regardless. But there is no denying that her life and death affected me deeply.


















