Last year, while I was home alone, I had discovered something that sent a wave of shock through me. I had ventured into the basement for a work out when it was to my dismayed surprise that I noticed a very old robin stuck in our window well. I knew he was old because he he had grey tufts of hair surrounding his head like a halo, and the poor little guy didn't move very much.
Attacking me and accusing me of hating and killing animals is utterly ridiculous. I absolutely adore animals, but at the end of the day, a dead mouse is unused biological matter, molecules in a pile, and I have no problems breathing new life into it creating something that gets people conversing about life, death and art.