As I watch my meat kits run, eat and play in the cage I have them in on the ground, I think of how cute they are, how lovable, and a bittersweet feeling washes over me. I know they will only live a few more weeks. It doesn't seem long enough. It never seems long enough. In order to eat, something has to die, I have long ago learned to accept that, but it doesn't make knowing they will soon die easier.

They were quite excited, once they realized this wasn't the day their lives would end, that they had ALL that fresh grass and those fresh greens all to themselves. They began to play and run and jump, as though they realized life was short and that they'd better get what fun they could have in while they could.

I don't like to kill my rabbits, contrary to what Animal Rights Extremists (also known as Animal Rights Terrorists, or, more commonly you'll hear them call themselves "Animal Rights Activists"-three lies in one!) may say. I see it as a sacrifice, my contribution to the circle of life. We are intended to eat animals, rabbits included. I really believe that. I give them the most painless deaths possible and allow them the dignity they'd never have on some veterinarian's cold, metal table while being injected with something that will end their lives for no reason other than being "unwanted." I use the meat and thank the animal for giving up its life, as did some of my ancestors, instead of apologizing as I once did.

I no longer apologize to my livestock for killing it and I won't apologize to anybody else for eating it. I'm not doing anything wrong.

Death is a part of life.