He's a vegetarian, uh-oh

May 1, 2008 was the day I became a vegetarian. For those clock watchers, you'll note that today, the day of this writing, is May 2. So I can't say I've done this for all that long. And truthfully, my goal is to only "become" a vegetarian for a month. After that? Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Time will tell.

I have to give credit to two things. Number one: not too long ago, during the winter months, I was running on the treadmill in the student rec center on the campus where I work. It was a cold, bleary-eyed, but otherwise normal morning. Funny thing about treadmills, you run forever but never actually go anywhere. And whilst you are stationary, you are required to regard that which is directly in front of you. Oh sure, once in a while, if you muster the courage, you can look left or right. But I know very few treadmill runners who haven't grabbed the oh-shit handlebar to avoid a fall after such a glance. In that you're required to look ahead, you're held captive to what's displayed on the wall-mounted flat screen. On this particular day it was good morning america, or a similar type program. And on this particular day some behind-the-scenes footage was shown of a slaughter-type place where they bring cows into a facility and unceremoniously kill them. Of course I've known that this sort of thing occurs. It's not like I eat a steak or piece of chicken and can't envision from whence it came. But on this particular day, the images were dreadful: it showed workers moving sick cows with a forklift; pushing them, lifting them up. All the while, the poor cows are crying or mooing or making other cow noises. It was positively pathetic - both for the cows, who were entirely helpless, and for the humans who would contribute to such disgraceful treatment of animals. To say that this affected me greatly would be an understatement.

So what's number two? My cats. Three of them, to be exact. No kidding. I know that we don't serve up cat for dinner; and it's rare that you see cats being prodded with a forklift (they are, after all, quite small). But what I do know is that my cats, stupid as this sounds, have taught me how great animals are. And that I probably don't want to eat them (animals in general - not cats - don't be gross).

Even though it's only day 2, I'm feeling pretty good about this decision. I'm not a crusader nor am I trying to save the world. I'm not going to wear birkenstocks or patchouli oil. Maybe I'll lower my blood pressure or finally drop those few extra pounds. But really, in the end, I'm just what seems right for me. And for the cows. And the chickens. I'll keep you posted.

Oh, and if you see me at a McDonalds, tackle me.

See you on the pavement.