Vegetarianism... or Emotional Sorrow?

For years I have been striving to become a vegetarian, the problem with that is that I am a terribly great meat eater. But lately the idea of not eating little critters becomes more and more appealing, especially with my early morning drive to work. Why, might one ask? Well... there is a truck full of little pigs being driven in every morning on the Gardiner. They stare out with their cute noses and pink tails. They try and poke their heads out of the tiny breathing holes to take a look at the world around them. I often wonder whether they know where they are being taken, do they appreciate the scenery knowing that this truck ride would be their last. Do they have any regrets, or unfinished business on this earth. Have they always understood that they are being fed just to end up on someone’s table or are they blissfully unaware of their misfortune only to be optimistically positive of their good fortune of being feed every day. As silly as this train of thought sounds, it causes me to be more and more reluctant to eat meat. Every time my mother puts meat on the table my imagination goes bonkers and starts to taunt me that I am biting into flesh. It feels as though the meat is screaming at me not to be eaten. My vegetarian impulse is not due to any health benefits but to the horror of consuming something that at one point was born, had a mother, maybe even had a little family. Something that, even if primitive, was able to produce thought and emotions and associate things ( many psychologists and scientists may have a problem of my view of animals). I often think of my cat, who is able to understand when I upset with him, or tell him I am disappointed, who is able to distinguish when I need wet nose kisses without me saying anything, who knows when I am happy and who is able to convey when he is upset. I often think of my cats behavior years ago, when one of our neighbors died, he’s mourningful cries that week and his refusal to eat food. He walked around as though he was lost for weeks. My belief that animals are able to experience human emotions are usually solely based on my cat. Due to my first hand experience of animal sorrow, I often wonder what the pigs in the truck feel and think as they experience their last sunrise through the truck's tiny breathing holes.