Doral, FL. 33122
Sept 9. 2010
Master Robert
R.L. Farm
Doral, FL. 33122
Dear Master Robert,
Earlier today, my friend the dog told me you, Timmy and Marge are planning to eat me. I address you in a plea not to be eaten. Please do not let me go through the same fate as my father, mother and brothers before me.
Remember when you brought me home and we went through the gate? It had the letters “RL” written on it. You may have forgotten about their meaning because of the unkempt, tall grass covering the metal plate that says what they stand for. “Really Loving” Farm is their meaning. The name of a farm represents the feeling and way of being of its owner. Would you really be a loving master living in a really loving farm if you kill me? Maybe the neglected grass is a symbol representing you forgetting about the well being of the farm, taking it as menial and only caring about what you get from us the animals: meat, dairy products… Has your desire for money taken over your heart?
If you want to live long enough to see little Timmy grow to become a man and later in life indulge in the joy of being a grandfather, you better not eat me. You are no longer feeding us properly, so we have had to roam the farm’s disposal area looking for food. I cannot recall the last time we ate a proper meal, for we have been eating our own waste and practicing other forms of scavenging; these include eating our own kind while still alive and further when dead. These happenings, for which you are the only culprit, cannot possibly result in healthy and safe meat for human consumption.
Ponder upon my words while listening to this long forgotten song of our ancestry from a far away land:
Remember when you brought me home and we went through the gate? It had the letters “RL” written on it. You may have forgotten about their meaning because of the unkempt, tall grass covering the metal plate that says what they stand for. “Really Loving” Farm is their meaning. The name of a farm represents the feeling and way of being of its owner. Would you really be a loving master living in a really loving farm if you kill me? Maybe the neglected grass is a symbol representing you forgetting about the well being of the farm, taking it as menial and only caring about what you get from us the animals: meat, dairy products… Has your desire for money taken over your heart?
If you want to live long enough to see little Timmy grow to become a man and later in life indulge in the joy of being a grandfather, you better not eat me. You are no longer feeding us properly, so we have had to roam the farm’s disposal area looking for food. I cannot recall the last time we ate a proper meal, for we have been eating our own waste and practicing other forms of scavenging; these include eating our own kind while still alive and further when dead. These happenings, for which you are the only culprit, cannot possibly result in healthy and safe meat for human consumption.
Ponder upon my words while listening to this long forgotten song of our ancestry from a far away land:
Beasts of England, Beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken to my joyful tidings
Of the Golden future time.
Soon or late the day is coming,
Tyrant Man shall be o'er thrown,
And the fruitful fields of England
Shall be trod by beasts alone.
Rings shall vanish from our noses,
And the harness from our back,
Bit and spur shall rust forever,
Cruel whips no more shall crack.
Riches more than mind can picture,
Wheat and barley, oats and hay,
Clover, beans and mangel-wurzels
Shall be ours upon that day.
Bright will shine the fields of England,
Purer shall its waters be,
Sweeter yet shall blow its breezes
On the day that sets us free.
For that day we all must labour,
Though we die before it break;
Cows and horses, geese and turkeys,
All must toil for freedom's sake.
Beasts of England, Beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken well, and spread my tidings
Of the Golden future time.
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken to my joyful tidings
Of the Golden future time.
Soon or late the day is coming,
Tyrant Man shall be o'er thrown,
And the fruitful fields of England
Shall be trod by beasts alone.
Rings shall vanish from our noses,
And the harness from our back,
Bit and spur shall rust forever,
Cruel whips no more shall crack.
Riches more than mind can picture,
Wheat and barley, oats and hay,
Clover, beans and mangel-wurzels
Shall be ours upon that day.
Bright will shine the fields of England,
Purer shall its waters be,
Sweeter yet shall blow its breezes
On the day that sets us free.
For that day we all must labour,
Though we die before it break;
Cows and horses, geese and turkeys,
All must toil for freedom's sake.
Beasts of England, Beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken well, and spread my tidings
Of the Golden future time.
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