The animal looks at us, and we are naked before it.
When I was four, we fostered a cousin’s dog for a summer. I kicked it. My father told me we don’t kick animals. When I was seven, I mourned the death of my goldfish. I learned that my father had flushed him down thebsp
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But compassion is a muscle that gets stronger with use, and the regular exercise of choosing kindness over cruelty would change us.
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Cruelty depends on an understanding of cruelty, and the ability to choose against it. Or to choose to ignore it.
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