Obviously, I'm Not Stressed

My feet haven't been touched in almost four months, I used to have a heel, and a lovely shaped foot. I'm rocking back on my heels, to keep weight off of my toes. My legs are starting to ache. But hey, that's not stressful. Living in my own waste 23.9875/24 is also taking it's toll on my skin, but snort, that's not stressful.

The flies have a choice of places they can torment me, but I've learned that my guard's rare perimeter dusting of insecticide means pressing myself against a concrete wall to get any relief. My face is losing it's hair, as I rub against my round bale. I'm a thin-coated breed, after all. But, nope, I am not stressed. My stomach is puffed full of junk, like the chip-board panel that is part of my airless pen. I've eaten the top four inches of one corner. I was hungry. I've ground shallow splinters into the underside of my neck, as I strain, pressing against the top of my pen, to reach the most palatable bits in my round bale.

My guard continues to nail the frangible side of my pen together, even as I try to press it down, straining to reach some food. There are several bales of old straw, just outside the door of my pen. I cannot eat them. I try. They are never placed in my pen. Sometimes my guard places grass clippings from the farmer's cutting of the lawn, on the straw. Then Guard leaves my water dirty, for days, and often low, and sometimes forgotten altogether. Guard feeds me mashed pellets now. Once a day, a cup or so. I'm always hungry. I'm always alone.
But I'm not stressed. Heck, no.

Obvious stress, to me, is impending death. I will not exhibit that for a very long time. I'm not dying right now. I'm just neglected. Ignored. Forgotten. Treated like a puppy, now not that interesting, at all. My guard was very friendly to me, when I met her at my old place, in my old field, with my old friends. Guard is not my friend, I know that now. I'm not stressed. I'm not dead.

This NON-fictional nightmare brought to you by caging the truth.

Please, people. Start questioning animal confinement laws. The plain truth about animals? They show stress when they are about to die, not before. They neglect very quietly, don't they. Not like people. Can you imagine people being quiet about their own neglect?
Animals are stoic, for one reason, it is their survival instinct. Never let 'em see ya sweat.

I'm going to start caring more about people, if I can, because they are ultimately the ones who can "make the change". I don't know how, except to recommend all of us in agreement extend letters to my government, and the OSPCA. OSPCA says they are fighting for better Animal Confinement Laws. I would like to see proof, soon.