To hate the cat’s indifference with its knowing mien or alleged sacredness, is to despise the sparrow that innocently shat upon your shiny new shoes
As well we should curse the rain laden cloud for the dampening of our day
Does the recovering blade of trodden grass cast tiny aspersions in our wake? Does the fly, mid-flee, plan its retribution past lethally intended swat?
No life, save man, can conceive Malice beyond playful mischief
Even the tawny lion, claws adrip breath hot upon your crushed throat, would bear you no ill regard though you sate its hunger.
Be it mewling kitten or mauling bear all walk a path girded by instinct yet free of mal intent or evil deed a purity of being more worthy of praise than loathing
The bad animal, deserving of our hate like the bad baby exists in equal measure
Hate is ours alone to bear, ours alone to embrace or misplace
Oh, to be merely indifferent with a nose raised in mock disdain and a haughty twitch of tail