Slipped — A Minnie Story

She arrived so quietly it was as if she had always been part of it. Only moments earlier, Missy and her older son, Pttt, had nervously stepped from quarantine into our wider world and now this world held someone new. Wet and shiny, Minnie took her first uncertain steps, her tiny legs unsure of their purpose, yet no less determined to find it. Each wobble followed by another attempt.

And another. And another.

I think I can, I think I can.

And in time, Minnie joyfully did.

We watched it all play out to the gentle soundtrack of sanctuary life, peering from our front row seats perched behind a small gap in the fence. Holding our breath and our place, careful not to disturb the fragile beauty of this moment. Missy, on high alert and fuelled by love, stayed close while Pttt edged nearer. His quiet bravery growing with each passing second, as though he already understood his role in this small and sacred family.

There was something so familiar in it all. A tenderness that didn’t need explaining and a love that moved instinctively from mother to child. And yet, we humans are so often careless with our words.

And the weight they carry.

We repeat old stories and myths and, in doing so, we let animals slip into a place of “otherness”, just far enough away that our compassion struggles to follow. And when they slip from our words, they so often slip from our thoughts.

But not here. And most certainly not in this moment.

Because to watch Missy gently nudge her tiny black daughter and to see the quiet devotion in the way she stays close and guides her is to recognise something we have always known.

There is no difference here that matters. Only a mother and her baby and the soft, enduring truth that binds them.

So let this moment stay with you, just for a while. And may it never slip from your mind that, regardless of form, when it comes to their babies, all mothers love them too.