We have has so many animal abuse stories lately that it has affected even my tough heart. My usual reaction to pain is to tell my brain not to think about it. If I don’t dwell too long on the thing causing me extreme pain, I can usually stifle my urge to cry. It works most of the time. And when it doesn’t, well, I go ahead and have a good cry. Or spill my guts out to the few friends I have left.

All in all, I will say that I am blessed. I am blessed because I can articulate my pain, I can tell someone about it, and I have some recourse if I have been unjustly treated because I live in a ‘civilized’ society.

But the concept of civilized has been seriously tested given the incidents of some ducklings being trampled in Brandon, the legs of a crane being torn off in Pasco and cats being torched in Tampa, along with several other such incidents.

I don’t own a pet. I don’t go crazy over dressing animals and taking pictures. I love not having to pick up after a dog, because I don’t have one. I like animals at a distance, maybe peeking at me from its little brush home, or the green snake that suns itself on the banana plant, or the occasional turtle that loses its way and wanders onto my porch. I let them be, and they let me be myself. I do shoo away the lizards, I admit. My colleague told me that a newspaper works best. It lets me keep my distance.

I steadfastly follow the rules. No feeding the animals. I respect the fact that they own the earth as much as I do.

I wonder what makes a person drive a nail through the head of an animal that can’t speak. I wonder what gives someone the idea to stomp a duckling. I wonder if these people have a child, or plan to have one. I wonder if they are out looking for a homeless person to beat up, or bully a defenseless child, or mug an elderly woman.