Brandy leaves her distinct brand on our life – one of wondrous cheer.
Whilst to some the word Brandy brings to the mind and lips the distinct flavour of a liquor produced by distilling wine, to others it brings the sharp, painful memory that comes from being “branded” by a wet tennis ball hurled against one’s body as part of a schoolyard game by this name.
Yet to us here at Edgar’s Mission the name Brandy belongs to a cheeky little impish slip of a lamb. So named because of the two distinct “brands” on her knees and one right smack bang on the mid-length of her back.
Brandy too leaves her distinct brand on our life – one of wondrous cheer. The way she never walks in a straight line, far preferring to brand each step with a bounce, skip and sideways flick of her back legs. The way she comes running at the first hint of her name. The way she lies blissfully in the sun with her two buddies, Cookie Monster and Buzz Lightyear. Not a care in the world can even be raised by the collective three.
She is indeed the perfect bundle of incandescent joy.
All of which is pause for thought for how we brand the lives of animals and others. Compartmentalising them with labels of convenience that circumvent our ethical thought, all of which causes a misalignment of our actions and our beliefs.
Every year, individuals and sanctuaries such as ours open our gates and hearts to countless orphan lambs such as she. And whilst the circumstances vary greatly, the need does not. For without assistance, these hapless babies would surely perish. Forgotten in a system that rarely offers them even a lick of human kindness, we are constantly reassured by the fact that beyond that system, and even from within it, compassion springs eternal.
For seeing lambs as the delightful and emotionally charged beings they are causes the best within our humanity to brand them not as production units, but to brand them the best way we possibly can – with our kindness.
After a night so long it almost forgot to end, we caught some sleep, grabbed a snack and headed on our well-worn track to the barn.
There was no doubt that Berlin’s world was crumbling the day he and his three buddies were surrendered into our care.
With a haunting sadness in their eyes, Gracelyn and Elvira entered our world. And we theirs, as they searched their newfound digs for somewhere to land their gaze.
Lost in a world far, far bigger than himself was little Bahama. But then kindness found him.
Little Kokomo may have been down on his luck the day he was born, finding himself way down in a pile of mirky mud.
Words could not convey our shock when we went to our carpark to collect the little lamb we would soon name Bermuda, who was surrendered into our care after having been found the day before.
More than likely destined for backyard slaughter, the young Cedric ran for his life. And did so for several days in the off-leash dog park to which he had retreated.
Friend or freezer? Without even meeting the colourful chap we have named Tom Cruise, we knew the only role he should ever fill was the first.
At just one day old, teeny tiny Trapper John was diminutive in size yet formidable in impact, and everybody was talking about him.