I wonder if cows felt pity when they first discovered us; discovering (as cows do) with no need for conquest, watching us as we come red and helpless into the world, squealing like nimble mice across the barn floor. Mouths that can’t chew grass, our silly talking tounges too short and soft to lick our loved ones healthy, and our sad, small useless eyes; they must think them blind, so obsessed we are with owning and so unsatisfied with simply seeing.