Entry points—The Story of Thor

In that sliding-door moment, everything changed. No longer would he be known as a “production animal”. No longer would his worth be measured by the value of his flesh or the usefulness of his body. Instead, he would be known as Thor.

And his days would no longer be numbered.

We named this battle-scarred lad Thor for the fierce, thunderous force of self-preservation he carries within him. A force that mirrors our own, reminding us that the instinct to protect one’s body—one’s life—is not unique to humans. It is something that runs through us all, regardless of species.

Thor is fearful of us now. The cut above his eye tells its own story. It is a quiet testament to the lengths he has gone to, to defend himself in a world that has given him every reason to do so. And yet, there is an entry point to his being. We see it in the pause between his stamps. In the brief moment when he lowers his head and softens his stance, even if only for a heartbeat.

It is there.

Of course he sees the tiger at every turn. Of course he does.

And yet, we know something else to be true.

Kindness has its own energy. It speaks without words and reaches places fear has long occupied. So we will move slowly and we will listen. And we will earn the right to be close.

Dearest Thor, buddy, we see the entry point to your heart, and we offer you one into ours.

In doing so, you remind us of something we, too, often forget. To pause, to breathe, to look again. And to realise the tiger is no longer there.

This is how a kinder world begins. Not with grand gestures or powerful speeches, but with the courage to meet another being where they are.

And to stay.