I love animals. I adore them to death. But too much love and carelessness kill.
I went with my parents to visit my father’s sister when I was 11 years old. My aunt had a rice farm and her husband would often catch a lot of birds who tried to eat the rice seeds in his net trap. He caught a lot that day we visit and saw how much I adore them. So he gave one to me.
My mother glance at the big bird cradled in my arms and say with a scornful face, “She won’t eat that.”
My uncle just laugh and handed 5 more for my parents for dinner.
I was happy and determined to tame the bird, make it understand that I’m a friend.
I never let go of it. I hugged it on the bus on the way back home.
In my excitement, I hugged tighter than I should, not knowing how fragile it was. I killed the with my own hands in the most horrible way. I squeezed the poor bird to death. I felt awful because I only wanted to hug it not cut out the oxygen from its lung and until its insides were out.
The people around me thought it was hilarious. My mother still laughs at it when she remembers. But just as that time, all I feel to do was cry and beg the poor bird for forgiveness. I didn’t have a relation to it yet, but it didn’t deserve to die in such a cruel way.
Support me by following my blogFollow Jessica E. Larsen on WordPress.com
And/or liking my Facebook page