I care, and I saw you, sweet Mumma.

I couldn’t tell you the last time I have been profoundly impacted, by watching footage of animals being killed. I have watched hours of it - in fact, I have likely watched days of it, and there are investigators who have watched plenty more than I have.

There you sit behind your screen - listening to whatever sad, somber, or sinister tracks you witness such things to - tapping the keyboard arrow through scenes and note down what happens.

Your list will be refined over and over until you finally decide whose stories will be told and those whose suffering will be witnessed only by you.

My time as an investigator has taught me that I have no fear of death - only suffering. Some part of me now feels a sense of relief when watching footage of an animal being killed in an abattoir. Their lives of misery and heartache are *finally* over - there is no more pain left.

But how many more miserable days and nights might this mother have to endure before she is finally sent to death on a filthy truck? How many more times will her reproductive organs be violated through artificial insemination? How many of her babies will she witness having their teeth clipped and tails cut off with scissors? How many times will she suffer the heartache of having her piglets ripped from their pen after weeks by her side?

Perhaps she was a new mother, with her first litter of piglets, which might explain the look of terror in her eye - not yet too defeated, terrorised or broken to be unphased by the sight of a human near her prison.

It’s worse to look at photos of someone you know is still right where you left them - suffering in that awful shed where hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of individuals are leading an inconceivably miserable existence - waiting to die.

I’m so fucking sorry the world is so fucking shit, but there are people who care.
I care, and I saw you - and now someone else will see you too, sweet Mumma.

And just like that - there is someone else to carry with me wherever I go.