Nail. There was this time my mother sold kittens to some dude. I must have been five around that time. I walked in front and around to the passenger door of the this man’s truck as he was getting in. Before he had a chance to shut the door quickly, I saw a tied up plastic bag at his feet. I think the cats were in there. They couldn’t claw there way out with thier nails.
I always felt guilty for not telling my mother I saw this strange thing happening.
Was it as I remember? Was it happening the way I thought it was? I’ll never really know. That was a long time ago.
I cannot stand it when people are cruel to animals.
I witnessed a kid around the age of fourteen hit a caged pig. True, the next day the pigs were going to get a nail to the head and then going to be slaughtered, but that is a poor excuse to treat animals in a threatening manner.
I lost my shit. I ran over to where the kid was and started railing into him about how wrong he was for treating an animal like that. This is the begin of how psychopaths are formed. What was his home-life like?