There was this time when I was about 15 when I was back at the country side, where I used to spend my summer vacations, at my uncle's farm (used to be my grandfather's), and I've witnessed a pig being killed. Although I thought it was an horrible thing to do, I really didnt get sick, seeing all those organs coming out and stuff, but what got me was the stench. And then I looked back and saw some vultures waiting to eat what would be left, and it got me. I got pretty sick and had to step away and take some water.
Later that day I did eat that pig though, with no guilt or feeling ill about it.