What can I give the old sheep as they leave? How can I honor them? Perhaps by giving them the same thing I want in my life. Dignity, Respect. Not Pity. Not ever. They are rushing towards the end of their lives. Their legs are going. They stumble and fall. Their immune systems are failing, and they are falling prey to parasites, their ribs beginning to show, unable to get out to the good grass, up the hill.

What can I do for them? I can spare them being hauled to a strange sanctuary, kept alive for humans to feel good about themselves. I can give them this: the true nature of their lives, as I wish to receive that for myself. It is all I can give them, really. To spare them the human idea that nothing dies, everything can be kept alive forever in a denial of life. It’s the only gift I have. They have everything else.

To spare them being dependent on me. To spare them my self-righteousness. To give them this true idea of love.