Confinement, exploitation and physical abuse are acts of hate, not love.

I was in 4H when I was 14. We raised pigs on one of the last farms left in suburban Chicago. We'd get the pigs when they were small enough to hold in one hand. Several times a week I would feed the 12 pigs we had and clean their pen with two other random members. At the end of the year we sell our pigs at the county fair to a slaughterhouse. Needless to say I was devastated. I'd raised my 10lb baby into a 270lb mass of adorable swine. I went into his pen one last time, sobbing, to hug him goodbye. As I wrapped one arm around him he bit my ear, hard. No sympathy for those delicious creatures as long as they're treated humanely before they die.

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