Mother Mary—When Suffering is Worse than Death

That one kick of her back leg was all it took to stop her from dying alone in a paddock—her newborn, but lifeless, baby close by. Five days later, in a different paddock—sitting upright, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by love—she passed.

So let us tell you, as best we can, the story of Mary. Though it is not the ending we had promised her, nor the one we had hoped for, it is the one that has played out, tragically, all the same.

Mary arrived late on a Sunday evening. It had been a day of bitter rain. The kind that falls sideways with no grace or pause. The mud on her side and skeletal form told us she’d been down for some time.

She was less than half the weight she should’ve been. Parasites ravaged her insides, while every rib could be counted. And yet, she gave us every reason to believe that kindness had not come too late.

We gave Mary intravenous fluids, vitamin cocktails, shelter, warmth and hope. And Mary must have felt it all, as she began to rally. Her appetite was strong, her FAMACHA score* was good, and she showed strength in her limbs and determination in her heart. (*A test for anaemia based on eyelid colour. Anaemia might indicate the need for treatment for barber pole worm infestation.)

She was beautiful in ways only poets can describe.

We loved Mary with everything we had. And our hearts broke for what she had endured—for what her kind are forced to endure every single day, steeped in forgottenness.

Mary, if we could have changed your fate, we would have. But maybe—just maybe—by telling your story, others might come to realise how cruel our kind has become.

If only words could open hearts, we’d pluck them from the stars. We’d steal them from the greatest works ever written and paste them together until your truth couldn’t be ignored.

We’d carry everyone with us through your final 24 hours. We’d let them feel your protruding spine and watch the life fade from your eye. We’d do this not to shock, but to awaken.

To feel.

Because, regardless of where people stand in their relationship with the animal kingdom, some truths remain. Form does not dictate feeling. Fleece does not deny a heart. And fear should never be the cost of someone else’s comfort.

Dearest Mary, we honoured you today in the only way we could. And though we shall see you no more, as you surrendered to your ills, we could not let you suffer.

Because suffering is worse than death.

Oh Mary. Mary. Beautiful, sweet Mary. You are now in a place where humans can never hurt you again. Where wanting animal protection laws can no longer fail you.

And we shall never forget you.

It was our greatest honour to serve you. To know you. To love you. Please know—we always will.

Mary, your life mattered. It still does. It always will.

RIP Mary. A sheep taken before her time—but not before her impact.