Like apples to oranges, both fruitful. Two eyes, two ears, two ovaries too. That’s where we draw the line, and it’s the differences that give us an excuse. No words to resist. Can’t write without a thumb. How can she say she doesn’t want this done? And every thirteen months, until she’s no good, given what will only be taken away to the same fate, or a veal crate. All for the precious by-product. If you wouldn’t want your mother, sister, friend, as a milk and baby factory, don’t let it happen in your name to a creature with two eyes, two ears, two ovaries.