17
Animal Welfare
I rode in the back of the truck on a wooden box, surrounded by massive, oinking pigs. I didn’t know who stunk worse. Them or me. They pushed and shoved. Big hairy, slimy noses getting in my face and fat, heavy bums pushing up against me.
I’m sure one of them farted. And the sound of all the oinking was deafening.
I stayed tight to the side of the truck, feeling every jolt from the potholes in the road.
Suddenly, I wasn’t so passionate about being a veggie again. I’d disciplined myself long enough for my meat cravings to totally disappear. One of a number Philippe-isms I’d managed to shake off since the surgery, including, ahem, admiring the female form.
Yet right that minute, I could have gone for a bacon butty.
Then I instantly felt guilty.
The pigs were probably
