All hell broke loose this week when it was reported that a young couple had adopted a pet pot-bellied pig from a local SPCA shelter but then killed and ate it.

This couple had signed an agreement that the pig was, indeed, being adopted as a pet – not food – but apparently things didn’t go as planned.  The pig misbehaved but instead of returning it to the animal shelter they decided to have it for dinner instead. They’d only had it for about three weeks. It safe to assume they hadn’t yet bonded.

I understand the outrage. No one can imagine eating a beloved pet. But I wonder how many of those crying ‘foul’ are doing so while eating a ham sandwich, or a BLT?

When we name an animal – in this case ‘Molly’ – and treat it as a pet, does it mean that this pig’s life is more worthy than any other pig? It could be argued that four-year-old Molly led a charmed life compared to the pigs raised for meat on factory farms where the conditions are appalling.  She was at the shelter after being ‘rescued’, but could the circumstances from which she was rescued have been any worse than that of her cousins at the pig farm? The way she was killed was reported as being ‘humane’. I’m not sure that could be said of the slaughter that goes on at factory farms.

I feel there’s a disconnect in our thinking. That  calf at the petting zoo pulls at our heartstrings with its cuteness, we want to stroke its soft fur, but then we go home and prepare veal for dinner.

It begs the question…