Ach, FiG, if only I could mend my behavior. But even if I promise to restrict my diet from now on to freshly mown grass and water, there will be two results of that hasty act: 1) you wouldn’t believe me, somewhat justifiably and 2) since my remaining days as a living (and carnivore) being are quite short, no amount of consumed grass will compensate for all the living creatures that had a mom and a dad and whose bodies, or parts of, I have shoveled in my craw.
On the positive side of the eventual balance I can testify that my son was a vegetarian for three years. And my daughter refuses to eat lobsters under a (false) belief that they shriek when thrown in boiling water. They don’t actually, it’s the escaping air… oh well, another time.
I know that these are pitiful excuses. But this is what I have.
Oh, and thanks for the Donna, Donna, I didn’t have a slightest…