The Invitation

Updated February 7, 2025

She pauses, her hesitation casting roots into the earth beneath her. She does not move. But why? Her nose twitches, drawing in the air as if it holds some cosmic answer. The world around her stills, suspended in her quiet inquiry. She glances our way, the briefest flicker of an eye—so fleeting it could be missed in a blink.

Yet she knows we did not.

Her legs buckle with the grace of a marionette at rest, a deliberate surrender to the moment. She lies on her side, stretching her limbs in opposite directions—a languid expression of trust and vulnerability.

And she waits. Sweet, young Petunia waits. Inviting us into her world.

As she rests, her eyes half-closed in tranquil bliss, her swelling belly beckons our touch. Warm and round beneath our hand, it holds the secret of new life—a quiet marvel shifting just below the surface. In this moment, we are witnesses to nature and Petunia’s unwavering resolve.

Petunia’s life, once uncertain, now unfolds in sanctuary. With the recent loss of her human guardian, Petunia, along with her companions Pippa and Perky, found refuge at Edgar’s Mission. Here, a chance to embrace life anew was theirs. Though fate and a fence had previously kept her from Perky, life found a way, her burgeoning belly a testament to its tenacity.

Now, as Petunia prepares for the miracle of motherhood, she labours with purpose; perfecting her craft, she builds her nest from straw. Her restlessness grows with her discomfort, but her determination shines in the sunlight and care surrounding her—a stark contrast to the impoverished lives most mother pigs are forced to endure. Here she will welcome her brood. A right so rare for pigs, whose natural instincts are so often thwarted by human desires and cruel but legal industry practices.

For most mother pigs, life is a tragedy penned in secrecy, shadows and sow crates.

Confined to metal sheds that resemble factories, their intelligence and sensitivity are ignored, their instincts denied. They birth their babies on cold, unforgiving floors, only to see them taken away—again and again—until their bodies can endure no more.

And so, Petunia’s story extends an invitation—not just to rub her belly or witness her joy, but to question the choices we make. It invites us to imagine a world where compassion reigns, where no mother, human or non-human, is robbed of her right to love and nurture her young.

In Petunia’s quiet grace, we find a call to higher action.

Her story whispers of a better way—a way that aligns our hearts with the kindness that so often flickers within us.

How will you answer her invitation?