a bone to pick.

Engaging in a conversation with a fellow work collegue today, we became enthralled by our agreement on the mistreatment of animals, in and outside of abbatoirs.

For the entirety of my life and all of its interests, I have never been willing to think about the way that cattle are slaughtered for human consumption.

Some may argue that it is the ‘food chain’, a natural part of living.

Yes, it is, but there is a kink in our chain.

Sure, if you watch television, or happen to be wandering in the wilderness, a hungry lion will tear apart its prey in less than a blink of an eye. They are an animal.

For humans, we consider ourselves to be an intelligence, a sort of superior power to everything else on earth.

So why exactly are the cattle we export to foreign abattoirs being murdered in the most inhuman, agonising way?

What is so intelligent about beating a living creature out of its senses, before its life is taken from it?

I might be wrong, but I thought our procedures were a little bit more advanced these days, where we didn’t have to act like cavemen.

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