23 Years of Choosing Kindness

On the 10th of May 2003, I set off on an adventure, not knowing it would change everything. And while I cannot remember every detail, I will never forget how it felt. It was an excitement I could barely contain, though I had to, because no one in the household knew of my plan. It began with a quiet meeting in a country pub carpark. An “accomplice” by my side…

And then, him.

Edgar Alan Pig.

I fell in love instantly. He needed convincing.

The drive home was chaos in the most beautiful way. I was singing, loudly and terribly. My little dog, ET, was beside himself with excitement.

And Edgar…

Edgar made his feelings known in every grunt, wriggle and fart-fuelled protest.

It was imperfect.

It was joyful.

And it was the beginning of something wonderful.

Because sometimes, the moments that change your life do not arrive with certainty. The most important ones rarely do. They arrive wrapped in noise, confusion and a feeling you cannot quite explain.

The next day was meant to be a photoshoot.

A moment alongside Hollywood actor James Cromwell that was to deliver a message of hope and kindness for pigs. It went so well that another idea quickly followed. James, accompanied by Edgar, would walk up the steps of Parliament House and call for a better deal for pigs.

And really, who better to argue their case than a pig?

My task was simple enough, or so I thought: take Edgar to the local park and help him become comfortable walking on a lead with people around. So off we went. Edgar, ET and me. With his lead in one hand and courage in the other, I watched Edgar do what I could not.

People came from everywhere. They stopped and smiled and they asked questions. “He’s so clean.” “He’s so clever.” “He’s better than my boyfriend.” And Edgar oinked and belly flopped as only a happy pig could. It was as if he had been waiting for this all along. They softened, became curious and in that moment, I understood something. I could speak to minds. But Edgar… Edgar reached right inside and gently nudged hearts.

And that changed everything.

Because change does not begin with being told. It begins with feeling.

And that was the moment the question found me. If it is to be… I did not have the answers. But I stepped forward anyway. Because I did not want to get to 85 and ask myself, “What if?” And what followed were not grand plans or perfect decisions.

Moments where I said yes when it would have been easier to step back. Moments where I let go when everything in me wanted to hold on. Moments that shaped something I could never have built by design.

A sanctuary.

A community.

A mission grounded in kindness.

And a life I had never imagined.

Over time, I came to understand something deeper. This was not just about saving animals. And it was not about me. It was about bearing witness. And righting a terrible wrong I had once been part of. Edgar’s Mission became my living apology. Knowing I could not change the past, but perhaps I could help shape a kinder future.

A place where farmed animals could be seen for who they are. And where people could no longer say they did not know. Because once you have looked into their eyes, really looked, you cannot unknow it. And from that knowing, something shifts, not through pressure, but through connection.

Through the simple truth that the distance we place between us is far smaller than we have been led to believe.

When you hold space with another being who wants, feels and lives, just as we do—who, then, can you harm?

Twenty-three years on, I no longer ask where this path might lead. I see it in the lives touched. I see it in Clarabelle, finally able to love and raise her baby as every mother should. I feel it in Ruby still, my wingdog and steady shadow, whose kindness walks beside me in ways my eyes cannot find but my heart still knows. And I witness it in Esmerelda, who refused to give in, fighting for her life even when it cost her leg.

In every heart changed.

In every moment where someone chooses kindness, perhaps for the very first time. Because the truth is, the things we do for love do not just change the world. They reveal it. And if there is one thing Edgar taught me, it is this: That the smallest moment, the quietest tug, the simplest act of kindness can begin something far greater than we will ever fully see.

And perhaps that is enough.

Because if it is to be…

it begins the moment we choose not to look away.