He Brought With Him

Frantic words pricked our ears, but what followed touched our hearts. As we listened intently, we learned of the plight of Michael Jordan—the goat.

He had arrived as if carried by fate, settling among the resident horses of a quaint, semi-rural property. Wary of humans but at ease with his equine companions, the bearded Michael had found a place to call home. But life shifted beneath his jet-black hooves—as it often does for us all. The property was sold, the horses were relocated, and time was running out.

Only one question remained: What would become of Michael Jordan?

All attempts to trace his origins led nowhere, while Michael wasn’t letting on. And efforts to capture him proved that his age was no barrier to his agility. Michael: 2. Humans: 0.
And time ticked on.

With less than 24 hours to act before doom descended, we formed a posse, calling upon an unexpected ally—our dear and amiable friend, Calvin Klein. A goat of considerable charm and even more considerable proportions (though, please, let’s not mention that to him.) The affable Calvin knew all too well the weight of an uncertain future; many years before, he too had been a wanderer, until kindness found him.

Ever since, he has spent his days paying that kindness forward.

Whether human or caprine, Calvin loves them all.

With careful planning and Calvin’s magnetic presence, the operation went off without a hitch. Before long, a bewildered but safe Michael Jordan was sanctuary bound. And in one final and poignant moment of connection, he looked out from the van, raised his handsome speckled nose to the human who had saved him and affectionately stuck out his pink tongue.

But why the name “Michael Jordan”? A tribute, of course, to the greatest of all time on the basketball court. But more than that, it was a tribute to the humans who cared so deeply for him. The ones who refused to give up on him and fought for his second chance.

In the scheme of things, when animals arrive at sanctuary, we grant them new names—a symbolic severing from their past, a heralding of a fresh chapter in a life rewritten by kindness. But Michael’s story was different. He had known love before, although he chose not to accept it. He, too, had not chosen to leave. And while so many animals come to sanctuary needing to forget, we wished for Michael to remember—to carry with him, in some small way, the warmth of what once was.

And although we could not bring his old life with him, we could bring his name. A name bestowed upon him by those who refused to turn away. A name that carried the weight of devotion, the power of care, and the promise of continuity.

Michael’s story reminds us of many things—that goats truly are the greatest of all time (still unconvinced? Just look at him), that necessity is the mother of getting things done, and that kindness comes in many forms. Sometimes, it arrives in a rescue. Sometimes, in an outstretched hand.

And sometimes, it lives on in a name.