When I was little I had a goldfish (named Blinky iirc like the three-eyed fish from the Simpsons) who had some kind of swim bladder disease that caused him to become stuck floating on their side at the top of the tank, flapping his fins desperately all day to no avail. This went on for a few days. His suffering was so obvious.
It was causing me so much distress that even though I didn’t really believe in the power of prayer (and was questioning the existence of a god altogether) I was grateful when my step-father suggested we pray that Blinky’s suffering end, even if that meant him dying. I was just so desperate to see that little fish stop suffering.
I then went on to eat hundreds of other fish who all had to suffer like Blinky in order for me to eat them. I never gave their suffering a single moments thought, even though I had cared so much about Blinky’s suffering. I was a monster, I just didn’t want to admit it, and although I’ve changed my ways now I can never take back what I did to those animals.