Life & Wisdom Quote by James Herriot

There’s a startling violence in Herriot’s phrasing, and it lands precisely because it’s so out of character with the gentle, pastoral aura many readers associate with him. “I could do terrible things” isn’t a confession of brutality; it’s a flare of moral anger from someone whose daily life put him face-to-face with the consequences of other people’s cowardice. As a country vet-turned-writer, Herriot lived downstream from human irresponsibility: the limping dog found in a ditch, the cat left in a box, the quiet chain reaction of suffering that begins when an owner treats a living creature like trash.

The intent is protective, almost parental. He’s not arguing policy or preaching sanctimony; he’s giving you a gut-level reaction, the kind that bypasses etiquette because the situation itself has already violated the social contract. The subtext is that abandonment isn’t a sad accident or a “hard choice,” but an act of casual cruelty disguised as convenience. By directing his rage at “people,” not circumstances, he refuses the comforting excuse that these animals are merely “unwanted.” They were wanted until they became inconvenient.

Context matters: Herriot wrote in an era and setting where stray populations, limited shelters, and hard rural economics made dumping common and easy to rationalize. His sentence is a line in the sand, a reminder that kindness is not a vibe; it’s accountability. The hyperbole works because it jolts the reader into the same indignation he feels, making compassion feel less like sentiment and more like a demand.