Poor Albert, the Little General, he of upright stature and Viciously Protective Tendencies, is crippled. Like a wounded soldier, he bears the humility, immobility, and pain with a clenched mouth (beak) muttered '2' when considering his own pain on a scale of 1 to 10 (unlike the flip '10' offered by the twenty-something broken wrist who is eating pudding and watching 'The Kardasians'). Like a WWII vet.
I took Albert on the road trip to Reno for my brother's 70th birthday party (said bro is WAAAY older than I...just so you know...). In a clear plastic tote, so he could see me and not be cut off from stimulation. So I could give him his IM (intramuscular) injections of the third antibiotic in recent weeks. I also provide electrolytes and vitamins via his water supply, and will give oral antibiotics via his drinking water beginning tomorrow. I massage the frozen joint, and perform 'tissue mobilization', taking care to give an oral pain medication first.
Then, my son e-mails me from his home in Mexico, where he is playing professional soccer. Seems his contact 'family' has chickens. One is a wanderer, and they don't want him to escape. They don't want to build a coop. So, they laid out a little wooden/stick-type perimeter for him to stay in, and broke his legs so he couldn't get out.
'OMG!!!' I texted back. 'Even my dad in his worst moments of rage would never do that...' But, unfortunately, I get it. It is a reality in a third world country. Animals are 'things', people are all. The animals exist at the pleasure and use of the humans. And, often, that sucks.
But, it stands in stark contrast to what my son has known in his life, in his reality. I am glad that he is shocked and repulsed by the barbaric practices that often define animal husbandry in foreign places. It breaks my heart that my kid (he still is, you know...) has to learn about this lack of development in kindness, but I am proud that he is so impressed and sickened. He is the better, more fully evolved human.
I am proud of you, my son...
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