Mocha and Latte

You two are so cute.  It’s a shame I have to kill you soon.

Sandra’s husband, John had warned her about becoming attached to the rabbits they had recently bought for breeding purposes, but she couldn’t help herself.  Mocha and Latte were just too cute for words.  Oh yeah, that was something else he warned her about.

“Naming them will only make it harder when it comes time to kill them,” he had said.

Yet here she was, emotionally attached to the two most adorable New Zealand rabbits in the history of animals destined for slaughter.  Sandra blames her husband for this predicament.

“Do you know what we should do?” he said to her one day a few years ago.  “We should buy a place out in the country and have our own little homestead.”

Sandra let John fulfill his little dream, even though she was a city girl through and through.  Soon, however, his dream turned into a nightmare for her.  In what seemed like no time at all, the homestead came to house more than just the Wilsons.  There was a barn full of chickens…

“Just think Sandra.  We could have fresh eggs every morning!”

…and the goats…

“Mmmm!  Goat’s milk!” John had said.

…and the bees out back that John had purchased after he had taken a beekeeper’s course at the local community centre.

“All the honey you could ask for, honey!”

The rabbit hutch went up two months ago, and that’s where they’ve been holding Mocha and Latte hostage ever since.  Logically, Sandra realizes that this is just the first step all meats make on their journey to our dinner table.  It’s just that emotionally she likes to think that meat comes from the grocery store, neatly prepackaged in cellophane.  There’s no butchering involved, no bullets or cleavers, no neck breaking, and certainly no cries of anguish.

“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” John says as he comes up to his wife as she holds Mocha and Latte.  “In a few weeks, we can have rabbit stew for dinner!”

“Suddenly, I have a craving for salad,” she says in return.  “Let’s just have that.”

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