PETA to me itself is a joke. A fellow animal lover tried to turn me onto them a few years ago but we both turned away when we found some rather, unsupportable truths about them. I don't appreciate being told that my animals are "exploited" or my "slaves" and therefore should run free and we should and I quote "admire them from afar like it was intended". My dogs eat better than I do, see a doctor more frequently than I do (and I'm permanently ill) sleep, walk, run, and are treated better. And they're HAPPY. If they want to call that abuse, well I say go for it. I don't smack my dogs when they aren't doing the right thing, I don't chain them up or make them do anything they don't WANT to do. Except maybe Jasmine when she won't get in the car.
When PETA starts calling me an animal abuser, slave owner or exploiter - that's when I look at them like they're out of their freakin' minds. Right now, my dogs are curled up behind me on my favorite pillows, snoring loudly and contently and somewhere in their dreams chasing a few pigeons. When they wake up to look at me with a happy face, wagging their tails, and force me to give them a never-ending belly rub until I serve THEM breakfast, I'll think about all the things I'll make them do for me, and make them learn to call me "master" before I stop slave-driving them.
Ahem, excuse me. Sorry, PETA is a bit of a sore spot for me.
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