Every Heartbeat: Why We Do What We Do

While the world may divide beings by how they walk, what we can take from them, or whether they purr, bleat or moo—we do not. We see individuals.
 We see stories. We see sentience.

This is why the inimitable Tim Tam, who may never walk unaided again, is gently placed into his wheelchair each day. Why sweet little Porsche, the lamb born without her lower legs, is being fitted with specialist prosthetic boots. Why ageing sheep like the rough and tumble Baabara Anne and goats like the much-loved Gloria receive daily arthritis medication. Why our phones buzz when frost warnings are issued—and we respond, for them.

Some call this sentimentality.

We call it justice.

It’s often said that capitalism and speciesism are two of the greatest threats to our world. We’d add a third: ableism.

Ableism says worth depends on ability.
Speciesism says some lives matter more than others.
Together, they blur our moral lens—leading many into a quiet dissonance that contradicts their deepest values.

But for us, it’s not about saving only the easy care or healthy lives. It’s about affirming that life itself—any life—is worthy of love, care and the chance to thrive.

We do not make decisions lightly. Each is grounded in well-being, dignity and quality of life.
But we do not view disability as disqualifying. Nor do we believe an animal must be “useful” to be valued. Easy to care for to be honoured. Or friendly to be favoured.
Because when Porsche feels the sun, or Babe turns her head to a familiar voice, or Ray Ray’s ears twitch at the call of birds—those moments are life.
And life is enough.

In truth, it’s more than that.
It’s where we find our better selves—living a life of service.

We are not here to win a numbers game.
We are here to change the story—their story, our story, humanity’s story.

To show that every being—regardless of what they can do or how they think—deserves a life free from pain, full of dignity and steeped in love.

Some may ask, “Is it wise?”.
We ask instead, “What would kindness do?”.

Animals with disabilities are not burdens—they are quiet teachers. They show us what resilience looks like without ego. How to adapt. How to trust again. How to love anyway.

They may not think as we do. But there is no doubt—they think.

They may not feel in the same way. But oh, how they feel.

Daily, we are gifted rare glimpses into their rich emotional worlds—of friendships, families and even the occasional feud.
And if it matters to them, it must matter to us.

To cradle a life the world dismissed—and choose to hold it gently—that is the moment we reclaim our humanity.
The very best of it.

Our sanctuary is not just a place of rescue.
It is a space to reimagine what kindness can look like—even when the world says, “Let go”.
We say, “Hold the hope”.

So to those who question: thank you. And to those who wonder if one life can matter, we offer this:

Compassion doesn’t count legs.

It listens for the heartbeat.

And every heartbeat deserves to be heard.

This is sanctuary. And we are Edgar’s Mission.