Reserve Your Copy of Animal

 TLDR:  In 2019, I had a vivid dream that inspired Animal, a symbolic and visually rich book about humanity’s relationship with cows, meat, and compassion. That dream set off years of research, artwork, and personal reflection, resulting in a limited release of 300 copies and the beginning of a larger seven-book series. At its core, Animal invites readers to take an honest look at the systems we often ignore and reconsider how we treat other beings—and ourselves. 

Long version: 

In 2019, I said a prayer, fell asleep, and had a dream about a book.

It was a two-part dream. In the first part, a bull is given the chance to become a man and teach humanity the "proper treatment of cows." But life as a human doesn’t unfold the way he expects. Through a series of relatable, human missteps and losses, he gradually becomes the very kind of beef-industry man he once despised. (See acrylics.)

The second part was the book: Animal. In the dream, it was already complete—lying open in an empty room on a pulpit. The exterior was a red leatherette hardcover, and the interior fanned out like a rainbow. On one side was a drawing of a cow; on the other, a cartoon version of me, going through the same journey the cow was experiencing:

• purple (gestation)
• blue (upbringing)
• turquoise (auction)
• green (family farm)
• yellow (factory farm)
• orange (transportation)
• red (slaughter)
   

The ending took me by surprise. After experiencing all the cow’s suffering, the illustrated version of myself buys meat, puts it in the fridge, transfers it to the freezer after choosing convenience foods, then ultimately wastes it. This was something I had done many times in real life.

I woke up knowing I had to create the book—no matter how difficult it might be. I also knew exactly how many copies I was going to make, where they would go, and that it would be published in 2025. It’s chock-full of symbolism.

But the dream was only the beginning...

I had little experience drawing cows, so I committed to drawing 1,000 of them. (See The 1,000)

To accurately portray their world, I attended livestock auctions, visited cattle ranches, sanctuary farms, dairies, and butchers. I immersed myself in literature from both the beef and dairy industries, as well as the animal advocacy community.

Throughout the process, unexpected insights emerged. I came to understand that the world needs both animal advocates and skilled experts in animal husbandry. We also need an informed and aware public. Most often, the very best people in all three groups—and humanity as a whole—love animals. We have an innate desire to help them.

But that compassion is often suppressed for profit and convenience, hidden beneath the guise of tradition.

Many people assume humans have always consumed meat the way we do now. But that’s not entirely true. What’s new is the scale, the lack of diversity, and the detachment. Meat & dairy has become cheap, constant, and emotionally distant. We’ve created an entire system we choose not to see. This cognitive dissonance feels more normal than it actually is. It’s unhealthy—both for us as a society and for the animals.

For example, while I was working on the book, stories surfaced in the news about major meat companies hiring children—sometimes in the hundreds—to clean slaughterhouses. These were illegal practices, but the companies only received small fines, which did little to deter them. Other stories highlighted legal, yet deeply troubling realities. For instance, many former inmates—especially those struggling with mental health issues—find slaughterhouse work to be their only employment option. These situations can pose high risks for the individuals, their families, and their communities. Domestic violence rates are often higher in areas with CAFOs and slaughterhouse jobs.

The scale and detachment also result in unique tragedies for animals. One fire at a Texas dairy farm killed 18,000 cows in a single day.

One quote stayed with me throughout the entire project:

“If you have men who will exclude any of God’s creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity, you will have men who will deal likewise with their fellow men.”
—St. Francis of Assisi

The deeper the journey went, the more complex the connections became—touching on compassion, reproductive rights, feminism, religion, and the way we relate to animals, to technology, and even to one another.

There were striking juxtapositions:

The kind-hearted person who won’t kill a fly, yet orders a bacon double cheeseburger without hesitation.

A society that comes unglued over the thought of people "eating the dogs," yet gives little thought to the 300 million "grass puppies" we slaughter every year.

We fear that AI could treat us like a commodity animal for profit—yet we reflect very little on the system we created that already does this to animals of natural intelligence, by beings of seemingly superior intelligence.

In American animal agriculture, one of the most common practices is to discourage people from naming the animals—it makes the job more painful. Yet the most commonly held religion in America is Christianity, and one of the most commonly read books of the Bible is Genesis. In that same book, the very first task given to man by God was to name the animals. The Bible permits eating meat in Genesis, yes, but only after the fall and the flood—well over a thousand years into the story. 

Not all discoveries were bleak. There were innovations worth celebrating. Some modern farms use self-milking machines that cows actually seem to enjoy. There are sanctuary farms, small hobby farms, and individuals who genuinely love cows and treat them with care. Often, the people closest to the animals had diets adjusted to match their individual convictions. Those individuals also seemed the most well-balanced and happy.

Through this long journey, I gained a new understanding of how we relate to animals—and, by extension, to ourselves. I began to wonder if we might become more whole, more honest, by confronting the parts of life we've been trained to ignore.

If nothing is wrong, why are we hiding it?

Even that question turned back on me...

In the days immediately following the dream, I felt unwavering in my commitment to create and share the book. But over time, doubt crept in.  I became intimidated by the confrontational nature of the content and the scale of the work. I shelved the project for several years.

This unfinished project lingered in the back of my mind during that time. The discomfort of leaving it undone showed up in unexpected ways, growing harder to ignore. Eventually, I came back to it quietly—not to share or prove anything, but just for myself. I worked through the pages as a kind of an act of spiritual devotion. Even if no one else ever saw it, finishing it felt like enough. I just needed to see it through and let it go. 

That changed after a series of events—most notably, a visit to the Basílica de la Sagrada Família in Barcelona, Spain. Something stirred deep within me. I stood there in the sanctuary of the church, beneath an angelic-looking statue of the Holy Mother Mary. I watched light filter through stained glass onto the floor around my feet. Pillars shaped like trees framed the structure and arched at the top, folding inward toward the nave and altar.  I made my way to a pew for prayer. While there, I had a creative epiphany: Animal wasn’t a standalone work—it was the first in a larger series told across multiple books, with AI integrated, ultimately culminating in an exploration of God's love. (See the Wordless Novels series.)  I knew I had to follow through on my original commitment to distribute this book—and that the journey was far from over. I also adopted Servant of God Antoni Gaudí as my unofficial patron saint.

Releasing Animal became an act of trust—trust in the process that inspired it, and in the possibility that it might speak to others in ways I couldn’t predict.  In ways personal to them too. 

And so, I chose to share it.

I finished the final image in December of 2024. In January, I had 300 ARC (Advance Reader Copy) editions printed, just as I’d seen in the dream—red leatherette cover, 300 pages, 300 images, divided into 40-page sections from purple to red.

I took a pilgrimage to São Miguel Island in the Azores to deliver the first copy. The Azores—known for their humane treatment of cows—are also where my family immigrated from two generations ago on my father’s side.

Next, I brought a copy to the Vatican (#40/300). It now resides in the Vatican Library. That day, there was a rainbow over the sky of Vatican City.

I distributed 40 copies to publishers. I received many kind words and encouragement, but it’s a challenging book for traditional publishing.

After that, the original ARC distribution continued as follows:

• 40 to libraries
• 40 to charities
• 40 total to churches
• 40 to interested & interesting individuals
• 40 to media
• 40 to public archives and private collections
• 10 for personal use
• 10 for public auction
   

All copies will be distributed by December—except for the final 10, which I’m holding to auction at the conclusion of the series (2050).

For more information about ADVANCED READER COPIES please visit here. 

The public release of Animal happens this December. 

I extend my heartfelt gratitude to everyone who chooses to engage with this work—to those who support it by purchasing it, and especially to those willing to look more closely at a subject so often kept out of sight. Your openness to reflect, to question, and to find your own meaning within these pages gives the work its deepest purpose.  

From one Animal to another, and my heart to yours <3