Thanksgiving always meant gratitude – happiness and eating turkey at my Aunt Mollie’s house.
It wasn’t until later when I learned what turkeys go through to arrive at our table – that I began to see the holiday differently.
Suddenly – the day felt utterly depressing.
So much of the dinnertable conversation revolved around the remains of a tortured animal who was not so different from my beloved cats.
Who’s going to carve the turkey? Who gets the legs?
The holiday I’d always loved for its spirit of gratitude centered on an animal who had nothing to be grateful for in her life.
This Thanksgiving alone 45 million turkeys will be killed for our dinners.
Now that I know what sensitive and intelligent individuals turkeys are – it breaks my heart.