Autobiography of an abandoned goat

Please help me!

I'm an Asian goat who is currently on the run. I was bred in a farm in North India for milk. My mother gave birth to me and my two siblings in the same farm, which was owned by an elderly man and his sons. We were well-fed to ensure that we grew up healthy enough to fetch our master a good price for our quality milk. Unlike me and my sister, my brother was sold off to a butcher at four months of age, who would eventually slaughter him for his meat.

As new-born babies, when our farm owner didn't depend on us to serve any commercial purpose, I and my siblings enjoyed following our mother everywhere in the farm, grazing through the green pastures of land and indulging in some fun and frolic. I grew fond of my life in the farm, not realising that soon all of us would be separated. My mother was soon sent to another farm, after she was plagued with a rare disease that mired her ability to breed. She went out of favor with the elderly gentleman, who transported her to a farm where she would be reared for meat. My brother met with a similar fate after he outgrew the nursing phase. My sister and I bred once a year ever since we turned one year old, except that my sister died at three years old. She hadn’t been milked for four days in a row, a few months after she gave birth, causing internal congestion to take her life. I realised that as I kept getting older, the attention given to me kept reducing. I knew that I would soon be traded for younger goats, once I stopped giving enough milk. There would be days when I would cry for long hours in my shed, thinking about my family and how much I missed them. Sometimes I wish my flesh wasn't edible and tasty for a goat's meat. Now that I'm baring my heart out, let me also say that being an animal in a world selfishly dominated by humans is a bane.

The day I had been dreading arrived sooner than I imagined. My owner soon started to look at me as a liability, and saw my rearing as unproductive. Like most other goats, I started giving smaller quantities of milk as I grew older. My farm owner was looking to sell me off when he was approached by a local butcher who offered him an attractive price for purchasing me and a few other goats in the farm. Before I knew it, I was already on my way to face the dreaded sword. My owner, who I had thought of as a very kind soul as an infant, now became a demon in my eyes. His actions would only mean that the bond and attachment that I had forged with him through the years were also going to be sold. I desperately wanted my mother to come to my rescue. I felt cheated and vulnerable, and my eyes were filled with terror. I did not know what lay ahead of me. I could now come to think about all the poor animals who, in the past, had met with horrific fates. In no possible way could I get myself to think about many a young goat, whose lives would end in a fashion similar to mine. On my way to the butcher's shop, I tried to escape from the vehicle that squeezed 15 other goats along with me. Alas, the human on the road gestured to the driver of our vehicle about our escape, who in no time jumped to his feet to catch me by the horn! I was pulled inside the vehicle with bleeding horns.
I wasn’t done with my struggle yet.  I tried to escape for a second time when I was inside the shop.

On entering the shop, I  saw a tonne of goat meat lying in the garbage can. As it turns out, the demand for our meat varies on a daily basis. Hence, a lot of our meat goes to waste when stored in mass quantities. I was eighth in a line of sixteen goats that were meant to be butchered for their meat and skin. I could sense the fear building up in the eyes of all the goats. The butcher picked up a large sword that had dried blood stains and sprang into action. And, we were one down! Blood spewed over all our faces, taking our fear to its peak. Some of us indulged in loud cries, but even our loudest screams seemed to fall on deaf ears. Our cries got worse as the next three goats shut their eyes, one after another. The butcher, now, decided to attend to his customers, but not before chaining the rest of us inside a room. The room looked like a store-room for all the live animals that were brought in. The room had two exits, with the second exit leading to the main street. My brain started running helter-skelter, trying to find ways to break away from the confinement. I tried to pull myself away from the chain that held me close to a wall. While I was helplessly trying to loosen the grip of the chain, I heard something snap. Bravo, I had finally managed to set myself free! I decided to make a secret escape using the second exit. I pushed the rickety door hard and quickly made a non-fussy exit. I felt very sorry for the other goats that were left inside, and sincerely wished for their rescue. I, still, was not totally safe, but experiencing some freedom for the first time, while I was on my own, surely added enough value to a goat's life in this human-centric world.