Our beautiful Princess

 A window where a white face used to peer from, belonging to Duchess. Sweet natured and intensely loved, none could love her more than  her best friend, Princess. Many of you will remember that iconic photo, it is printed in my mind like a watercolour, changing with time, but remaining beautiful in its journey. 

Princess is a magical character, shy yet gregarious, loving but mischievous, calm yet stubborn. She wears her heart on her shoulder, in plain sight for anyone that wishes to see. Her hair as soft as a babes head, her whiskers as sharp as any grandads moustache. She is watchful, seeing any visitor, any passers-by  assessing them in her inky stare.

To think she was once left in a barn to starve, after years of having her children taken, brings a lump so sharp to my throat that it takes me on a memory journey of her suffering. Her "downed cow" status, that dairy cows earn the title of. If I could implore any of my followers to stop anything, it would be dairy, it is a despicable, tyrannical industry. Profitable only through intense misery and suffering. There is no such thing as a happy cow, only in the carefully crafted adverts. These ladies pine and grieve for months, with hideous mastitis, and a lifestyle that renders them too weak to stand. Please think about whether it is necessary to partake in this trade, I implore you.

Princess will rest with us for as many years as she has left. We helped her to learn how to walk again, to trust again, to eat again. Our dream was that one day she could raise an orphan calf, but we wait for the opportunity to present another unwanted holstein. Our last calves, Duchess took command of being mummy, now Duchess is gone, we only have one mum left. Maybe fate will shine kindly on Princess, and give her this chance, either way we will love her unequivocally, as you all will, that meet her. Maybe she will shine for you, in the way she touches our hearts❤

Words of wisdom from the rescued dog

Here I wait, guarding all access, you can't leave me behind at bedtime. I watch where you are downstairs, I listen to your voice, your footfalls. You are my world and I will not leave you. 

 When you go in the bathroom I'm on the step, in the potting shed I'm with you, walking down the stairs I'm before you. In the car I will jump in the boot, and listen to the music with you, jump out and come to the shops, sit by your side. If you're sick I watch you, if you laugh I'm with you. When you aren't aware, I'm aware of you. You are my everything. 

While you sleep, I'm at the foot of your bed, while you dream, I'm running by your side, I can hear you while I sleep. If you sleep too deeply, I'll nudge your face with my nose, just to check you haven't left me for another world. I waited for you, I'm here until the day I leave this world. 

When I was beaten, starved and bred to exhaustion, I dreamed of you. When I was chained I saw you in fields of freedom. I knew your smell the second you met me, I will not forsake you. I am your friend, your companion, your protector, I will stand between you and any danger I see, hear or think of. You took me out of hell and held my head until I felt love again. I will never forget you. 

 When we walk together, I check on you, I see you watching me. If you leave me for a moment, I hear you arriving before you are anywhere near. I anticipate your arrival. I'm always happy to see you, even if you're sad. When I've gone from here, I will still watch over you, I will still meet you in your dreams, I will wait for you to come. You are my everything. 

 To every guardian of every loved dog, every rescue dog, every lost and saved dog. You are their everything. 

Thank you x

Twas The Night

‘Twas the night before, the night before Christmas,

at silly o'clock in the morning.

All the humans are sleeping; except the blasted mice!

The stockings are hung all over the floor;

I have the washing piled behind the old door.

The children are sleeping all snug in their beds;

With visions of Gary and grapes dancing round in their heads,

Me in my wellies and Jerome in his bed,

Thoughts of the night shift, swirling around in my head.

When out in the garden there arose such a din

I sprang through the door, whacking my chin;

Away down the garden I flew like a demon,

Drooling and wobbling, luckily nobody could see me.

The moon adding lustre to the puddles and mud;

My face aching with the just received thud,

When, what to my watering eyes should arrive;

But a huge black Phoebe and Dick just behind.

I couldn't move fast, I am not so lively or quick,

But I knew in a moment it must be a trick.

More rapid than dinner time, Phoebe did run,

With Dick in pursuit, trying to head butt her bum;

A huge flapping sheet, gripped in her strong jaws,

No doubt ripped from her shed or the floor.

"Oi, you little git, What have you done?"

As I slipped and slid and started to run;

Wheeling about the garden, in the dead of the night;

Fighting to remain upright with all my might,

Trying to snatch the tarpaulin from a maniac pig;

With a calf in pursuit, almost doing a jig,

All the others then came at a run;

Obviously not wanting to miss any fun.

"Oi, Blossom! Oi, Rupert! Oi, Bean! and Teddy!

Move, Gonzo! Move, Dick! Move Gretchin and Phoebe!"

To the top of the garden, then round the old tree;

Face first in the mud, then cracking my knee,

I wasn't impressed or filled with holiday laughter;

Phoebe was squealing and Dick still chased after.

"Now piss off! get away! go to bed all!

This really isn't very funny at all!"

The geese starting to gaggle, in the field the cry started,

"I suppose everyone's up now, may as well get the day started,"

With a glance at my cry, Phoebe flew to her bed;

Leaving the sheet wrapped around Dick's confused head,

And then, in a flash the rain started to pour;

I made a mad dash for the kitchen back door,

Forgetting alas, the blasted fairy lights;

That I hadn't had time to put at the right height,

Strangling myself at a lolloping run;

Still, drooling, half limping and now wheezing along,

I collapsed in a heap on the stone kitchen floor;

Hearing the garden folk, laughing I'm sure!

As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,

Down the stone stairs Azra did bound,

Running to the back door to gain her relief;

She let out a pee in a squirly motif.

The mice continued to scuttle and lightly dance;

The humans all snored and dreamed of the chance;

To be free of all horror, oppression and pain,

While I listened to the earthlings all settle again.

I picked up the toys and fed the fire a log;

Switched off the lights and kissed the old dog,

Climbing the stairs, I stifled a yawn,

Sending a wish to all those new born,

To know justice, kindness, compassion and love,

For at this time of year many do suffer;

So spread around heartfelt peace and compassion.

I climb up to bed and I bid you adieu,

To all my friends and enemies too

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL ~ Miranda Elliot

*Ideas taken from: 'Twas the Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore

Something Dark Glitters

The world is full of richness and colour,

No sister animal should be without her counterpart brother,

There can be no action without consequence,

Whether delivered swiftly or in recompense.

As the waves crash into the oceans,

The tides pulled by the moon with sweet devotion,

The sirens of the sea weep with sorrow,

As the deep is ravaged by the undertow.

As the petals on a flower clasp one another,

One bee's flight pronounced as nectar gathered,

The forests and hedgerows that should be voluptuous,

Have cankered growth, but birdsong rapturous.

As the sun scorches the raindrops from the bows,

The wildlife scuttles and hides within shadows,

Amidst what should be peaceful, something gathers,

Age-old darkness that chatters and staggers.

Hidden within this bounty in plain, lurid, sight,

Is a troublesome child that acts like a blight,

A form of animal that cannot be stopped,

It knows no bounds and has soon to be dropped.

Nature is happy to find her bountiful balance,

As the leaves continue to fall in glorious radiance,

This child of hers will learn to change,

Or be wiped forever from Nature's range.

So while the spiders continue to spin and weave,

The crabs continue to scuttle from the sea,

The dewy grass collects crystal beads,

This child of destruction sows black, rotten seeds.

It cannot be long until Nature's song,

Decides enough is enough, man should be gone,

But until that time is due to pass,

Enjoy the smoke on the wind and the scorched grass.

~ Miranda Elliott

Peacefully defiant against the system

While all about us seems in turmoil, we continue to remain peaceful. While there are those that need us to be strong, we will remain peacefully defiant against the system. Quietly defiant against the bullies and the vandals. Courageous in the face of violence without sinking to the same levels of depravity and small mindedness. Our garden folk will be protected with every ounce of strength we possess, both emotional and physical. We will stand with our arms stretched wide to encompass them all, and stand between whichever foe tries to pull down our walls and our charges.

We are guardians of our folk, we are educators of our lifestyle, we will not kneel or bow our heads to those that wish to beat us down with violence and depraved acts. The more resistance we face, the more our message is being heard. Live kindly, live peaceably, harm as little as you can. Tread softly, tread gently, compassion is not a weakness but something to aspire to. Live every moment as fully and deeply as you can, surround yourself with gentleness and passion for life. We are good people, with clear hearts and minds wide open, we will not be shrouded by your darkness or tainted by your limited dreams. This is our planet too and we want it to heal, we want to do better, we will not be dragged down.

Bramble’s story

Since her arrival at the Sanctuary Bramble has grown in stature and in confidence. She scoots around the garden in her own wonderful way and is independent of mummy Saffron now. She is utterly adorable and loves to be adored. If anyone is in the garden sitting on the hay under the shelter tree she will come over for love. Craning her neck forward, her yellowy, hazel eyes large and enquiring. Waiting to receive what she believes to be her rightful amount of love and affection. She smells like warm dandelions and mud and calls with a rather stringent voice if ignored. We are waiting for her to reach her adult size and then we will get her fitted to see if a prosthetic will help her to lessen the strain on her back from being a little lopsided.

She is the first to the food bucket and has learnt to ignore the pigs, except for Phoebe pig, whom she cuddles up with to sleep. Phoebe may not like many humans and is bossy to all the garden animals, but to those that are a bit wobbly like Brynn and Bramble she is kind and gentle and she has all the time in the world for Gerty Goose. So Bramble has chosen wisely in her dream guardian Phoebe.

Bramble was taken from a filthy barn floor, kept in the darkened gloom of this fetid space with eight other lambs. All destined to be slaughtered for someone’s table. Bramble suffered from neglect and in the process came to harm. She hurt deeply, from infected wounds, inflamed joints and acute abscesses. Pouring in pus, covered in excrement this little poppet was surrendered to our sanctuary. There was no profit to be made from her, she didn’t have enough healthy legs to put on weight for the table. Due to luck, timing or perhaps our charm, we were able to get mum Saffron out, too.

When she arrived, Bramble had only one leg unaffected by the neglect from the farmer, her exploiter. Initially she had seven abscesses, which we drained and dressed daily. We massaged the leg she preferred not to use, every three hours day and night, keeping the tendons stretched and promoting movement. She also had  arthritis injections costing €15.60 a time every four days, long-term anti-inflammatories and antibiotics with local anaesthetic for the wounds, calcium and traumasedyl solutions to drink, and Bach rescue remedy.

It was a long and lengthy journey back to health. Jerome and I took turns sleeping in the barn so as to be on hand if needed. Gwynnevere gave Bramble her best teddy. The one that was next to her the moment she entered the world, the one that she cannot sleep without. She said that Bramble needed lots of love and comfort and she trusted Teddy to do that. I asked her how she would sleep without Teddy, “I will be OK, as Teddy is looking after someone very special for me”, she replied. Bramble certainly took Teddy in her arms and snuggled up close. Perhaps because he smelt of Gwynnevere or perhaps because he was passing on his magic that he had given our human child for six years.

Eventually, Bramble was declared infection free due to her guardians. Not just us, but those that follow her story, those that sent her love and kept her in their minds. Those that sent her bandages, ointments and little jumpers, that we lovingly applied every day and changed. We may have been the ones physically wading through those dark, horrible places and we may have been the ones giving the care. But you, our supporters, care for us and her, you care for them ALL.

Life for Bramble is now blessed, as she is with her mummy, her home is safe, her belly is full and she is surrounded by humans that care and respect her. She is one of very few sheep to know this level of peace. The time will soon be upon us again where these little folk will be coming into the world again just to be used for a festive meal. They are more than food, they are individuals who think and feel. They are not stupid, they are bright, funny, inquisitive and gentle. They are only afraid and act in a fearful way when they are scared. So please stop paying for them to be scared. Thank you.

Some days don't go as well as they could ...

There are days that just don't go as well as they could. When a series of events fall like badly laid dominoes with hitches in the patterns. When the outside world seems a little too cruel to contend with, or the locals have made one comment to much. A lorry went past today, a cattle lorry that is used to take them to slaughter. We see them all the time when we are out and about , three or four on every journey we take. I try not to look, but my eyes are inevitably drawn to the faces in the gaps. The reason I try not to look is that it cuts my soul to shreds. I feel bereft in my uselessness to stop the conveyor belt of carnage. The lorry today was going past the sanctuary. I was minding my own business, cleaning out some flower pots when the stench hit me. There is nothing quite as awful as blood and excrement mixed with fear sweat. I held my flower pot close to me for comfort, rocking it as if it were a baby. Shaking with the futility of my situation.

As these lorries roll on by with soft noses pressed to the gaps, or with necks strained so that the people inside can see the outside. I feel crushed. It is heartbreak, horror, anger and a deep melancholy all rolled together. A feeling so pronounced that it clings around my oesophagus like a serpent. There is nothing more I can do to try and stop this from happening.

I walked into the garden with no energy even to cry. A feeling of being a husk blown on the dusty breeze, my body following my feet. All I wanted was to see my family, those that I had managed to swipe away from those blasted lorries. All the pigs and sheep ran to say hello, head leans and kisses shared. Yet still I felt empty as I wandered down to the shelter tree and sat on the fresh Timothy hay. Little Bean and Bess came swiftly to lay on me. Lilly was different. She approached and standing over me cast her yellow gaze. She then leaned her head with all her strength onto my forehead, it was a little uncomfortable, then stared at me again and repeated the process, pushing me down. So I finally listened and layed down, to be honest I didn't have the energy to resist. She then pushed her head onto my breast plate, it hurt and I asked her to stop. I didn't need to be hurt. I tried to push her away, but she looked her look and then started again. It became very painful and I started to cry. As soon as my first tear fell, Lilly stopped and turned, her little hairy chin resting on my head. My crying turned into full blown sobs as the images of the truck hit home. Lilly put her soft cheek next to mine and then turned and sat. Pushing me towards Little Bean with her chest. My sobs squashed between a pig and a sheep person. They stayed with me like that, the three of us under the shelter tree. My face covered in Timothy hay and dried tears, nestled into the comforting warmth of Lily, while she rested her head on me. The contented snores of Little Bean behind me and her warmth at my back. Lilly knew I needed to cry, even if I didn't. There is no doubt in my mind , as the pain she created acted as a catalyst for the pain that was suffocating me inside.

If only every human could listen and hear them when they talk to us, the other folk. If only every human could feel their love and their compassion. They give it freely if we care to listen and take time to hear them. They communicate so profoundly at times, I am left speechless at the depth of human ignorance. Why are we so quick to judge them as "lesser" than us, just because we do not have the capacity to understand them? We are so arrogant that we miss the beauty of the world in which we live. As we stomp and use everything and everyone in our path. Please stop and listen, please stop those trucks filling with beautiful, sentient individuals. They all would take time to reach out and try and make us understand if we were to just give them a chance.