Sheep have feelings, too. (On becoming a vegetarian. Again.)

This morning, I got stuck into a conversation about where sheep came from and how they’ve survived so long since they’re fairly easy prey. It started with my justification for becoming vegetarian (again).

Me: We don’t eat cats and dogs, so why is it okay for us to eat cows or sheep?

Him: Cats and dogs are intelligent, and cows are stupid.

Me: Just ’cause they’re stupid, doesn’t mean they don’t feel pain.

Him: Plants feel pain, too.

Me: Yeah… but I have to draw the line somewhere.

This led to a Wikipedia spiral looking at the evolutionary history of bovine and sheep, and a general rejection of the evolution from fish to human. But the point of this conversation was that I’m becoming a vegetarian.

I’ve done it before. When I was fourteen, I became a strict vegetarian for just over two years. Then, my partner at the time was basically a carnivore and I started eating some meat again. I converted to Islam for several years, and during this time it was easier to just not eat meat than to consider what was halal, so I was mostly vegetarian. For the past few years, I’ve been ‘mostly vegetarian’ – so I tend to eat meat once or twice a week.

The other weekend, at the Orewa Craft Market, I was talking with the market manager about veganism (her family have recently become mostly vegan. The children were allowed to make the choice on their own). She sent me a huge amount of information, some sensational and some more matter-of-fact, and this reminded me why I’d become a vegetarian in the first place.

You see, I never really wanted to give up vegetarianism. The other night, I was watching Come Dine With Me and one of the hosts was ‘spatchcock poussin’ which the narrator explained was a chicken younger than 28 days old, with its spine removed. This was the last straw, and I decided then that I needed to make some changes.

I’m giving myself a week or so to divulge in meat-eating (lamb shanks, anyone?) and then I’ll make the cut.