Today, I am a hypocrite. I knew this about myself a long time ago. In fact, I think most of us have tottered in hypocrisy on some level at one time or another. Perhaps.
I know the thing that comes to mind first and foremost with me. I love animals and would not harm a single one. When I spot a spider in the kitchen, I carry it outside. I rejoice in mole holes. Well, maybe not “rejoice.” Respect might be a better description. I do not mind that the grackles are swarming our feeders right now. Every little creature needs to eat and to have a place to live.
Yesterday, we discovered “something” had attacked another one of our goats. Again, one of my favorites. This time, Coco. She is our smallest girl goat. Coco is as sweet as they come and loves to eat. This morning she is suffering until the vet can get here. I know the “something” was most likely a coyote, acting on its own instincts. But there are strict “shoot to kill” orders on our property right now. If you are a coyote and reading this, don’t come around.
I wish the true relationship between coyote and others could be like that on Looney Tune’s celluloid. That Wile E. Coyote as he pursues the Roadrunner. Meep. Meep. If that were the case, I could simply get out my A.C.M.E. anvil and hand it to him as he steps off the cliff.
But here we are in Camden, where the real coyotes are ripping our goats to shreds.
The other wing of my hypocrisy surrounding my love of animals — is my love of eating meat. This has never seemed right to me, and while I don’t eat much meat these days, I still enjoy it. A conflict. Pass the salt, please.
Yet, my hypocrisy goes much deeper, it seems. Yesterday, I wrote that we should all give our unique gifts to the world, whatever those beautiful gifts may be. I meant it. I thought.
And today, I was sifting through the daily news, of present and of yore, trying to find a suitable topic for this evening’s blog. The following account made me wonder.
Today, July 30, 1941, is the birthday of Edward Benjamin, also known as Count Desmond. He was born in Binghamton, NY. And when little Edward grew up, he turned himself into that caped Count Desmond and became a sword swallower. Not just any sword swallower, but a three-time Guinness World Record holder for his feats. He once swallowed a microphone while on stage to hear his heartbeat. That guy Count Desmond.
I thought, “Who in their right mind would want to grow up to be a sword swallower?”
Shame on me. I should have been happy for Count Desmond. I’m sure he was a big hit at birthday parties and such. And someone besides Buckingham Palace has to keep the sword industry rolling.
To Count Desmond, it was all his dream, making his living doing exactly what he wanted to do. Swallowing swords. Another day, another dagger.
I guess it was just that my Mom taught me never to run with swords in my mouth. So. There was that.
My point is, to all of this, I suppose, is that it would be best if I practice what I preach. Yet, the conundrum continues. I’m still going to have bacon with my eggs for breakfast. And I’m bent on killing that coyote.
I suppose my scarlet letter will forever be an H.
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“It’s discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit.”
― Noël Coward, Blithe Spirit
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“I care not for a man’s religion whose dog and cat are not the better for it.”
― Abraham Lincoln
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“We are all hypocrites. We cannot see ourselves or judge ourselves the way we see and judge others.”
― José Emilio Pacheco, Battles in the Desert Other Stories
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H is for Hypocrite
