I’m going to be really obvious with this one. I wish animals could speak. If they could speak, we would have avoided a lot of the problems we’re having in the world now, especially the ones that involve crowding animals together in small spaces, and feeding them food they can’t digest properly.
We might not have ever called them pets if they could talk. Can you imagine? Owning a pet would be like owning a child if they could grow up and learn how to talk. Sure they’re adorable while they’re innocently young, but you would have to be tolerant of their talking if they could tell you what they wanted.
Then when they grow up, become twelve or so, just imagine the cat staring at you wanting to go outside, but all it has is the window. He’d look at you, and go, “You know I always wanted to talk to that rabbit tearing up your garden. When are you going to let me out of this house so I can do that?”
You’d respond half-heartedly, “Mulberry, you can’t do that. The rabbit speaks an entirely different language than you. It’s been outside all it’s life. It would be like you talking to that squirrel in the attic. Doesn’t understand a word you’re saying.”
“Ah, that’s right,” Mulberry looks away at the windowsill, “I’ve meant to deal with her…” He looks back at you, “but I can’t get into the attic either, or I would’ve talked with her properly. Instead of just complain through the ceiling.”
…
Anyway… If we think of animals like we think of children, the teenage years are about when the rebellion starts. They start figuring things out on their own well before then (often mischievously), but that’s normal too. Talking animals could attempt to persuade you, and the best part is that it would be normal.
Just the idea is far more humbling than now. Honestly. I’d love to feel as if we’re not the dominant species on this planet anymore. The worst of us are just screwing it up.
Anya Ehrim's Diary 