It’s been warm so far so I haven’t had to wear my toughest fur. It’s the bulky, long haired one which has kept me comfortable at whatever temperature Chicago has thrown my way. My beautiful blue fur has a pretty big tear in the back. I’m not complaining. It’s been so good to me for more than 30 years. As back up, I have my mother’s mink jacket. I was thinking of selling it recently, but it wouldn’t bring a price worth it’s sentimental value.
When it became a “thing”, I didn’t pay any attention to people who questioned my devotion to my furs. It was always way down on my list of issues. But now, when I read of the dead animals in Australia (did it actually say “billions”?), I weep for them and the ones in my closet.
Do we deserve to be served so well? We, who ignite the fires?