My mom hates when I use profane language. (This, per her thinking, is any type of language the marries the holy and the chaste with rudeness and crudeness.)
It occurred to me that — for all of the howling, yowling, hissing, and growling that they do — animals are not prone to using profanity, in the traditional sense.
I often feel like a misunderstood animal. Recently, I was curled in fetal position, trying to take a nap, gazing at my knees, willing myself to fall asleep. I realized I would’ve been one of the most pathetic animals in the cave.
I couldn’t sleep. I got up and I walked around. But I didn’t curse or take anyone’s name in vain. I just got on with the business of living.