All Creatures of Our God and King

I once drove over 30 miles to an overnight emergency vet at 11:30 p.m. because my pet mouse was dehydrated. I took a different pet mouse to a vet to be euthanized because I could tell it was about to die and was suffering. When my cats have killed birds in the past, I have given them a proper burial. I've driven nearly 50 miles to take an orphaned bird to a bird reserve, I've befriended otherwise unbefriendable wild, stray cats, I've cried over a news story of a turtle being tortured by fire, and I often feel guilty for killing bugs. I think all those convicted of animal cruelty should be burned at the stake.  

I never, ever thought I could cry over a fish. But this fish is suffering.  You can tell he is dying, beyond help, and he's struggling so hard to breathe.  His gills are opening and closing so slowly, but the effort is so difficult that it rocks his entire body.  I am heartsick over it, because I can't stop the suffering.  I guess I could technically do something, but I'm no Jack Kevorkian.  I feel so terrible that I can't help the wee guy, and am anguished that it is taking him so long to die.

When I'm at the final judgement and answering questions about why did I ever drank frappuccinos, my lust for Ryan Gosling, and why I don't even like my own dog, the Lord will look on my heart and see these things I have done and felt over animals, and he'll cut me a little slack. 

You'd think I'd be a vegetarian, wouldn't you?