This morning, while we were preparing to say goodbye to our beloved Miss Piggy, something unexpected happened. We received a call from one of the veterinarians we work closely with about a potbellied pig in desperate need of help. This is Bentley. He is just four years old and already neutered. The Vet had gone on a house call because he was having trouble walking. When she arrived, she realized the situation was much more serious than anyone expected. His owner is a woman who lives alone and is wheelchair bound. She loves him deeply, but because of her own physical limitations, she has not been able to provide the care he now needs. He has not been outside in several years. He has been living indoors in a home with poor ventilation, struggling in the summer heat. His hooves are severely overgrown, making it painful for him to walk. After a heartfelt conversation, his owner made the incredibly difficult decision to surrender him. Through tears, she told the veterinarian she knew it was what was best for him, even though it was breaking her heart. The veterinarian called us immediately because she believed we were the right place for him. When I presented his case to our Board, the majority agreed that this is exactly the kind of animal our sanctuary was built to help. I'll be honest about something. Every time we accept another animal, I feel horribly anxious. Not because I question whether they deserve help. They absolutely do. I worry because I know the criticism will come. There are people who believe we already have too many animals. That we should have said no. That every intake is irresponsible. Those comments weigh on me more than most people realize. But this isn't simply another pig needing a home. This is a pig with a very specific set of needs. He needs a climate controlled environment immediately. He needs soft, supportive flooring because walking has become so difficult. He needs gradual corrective hoof rehabilitation by people who have experience doing it safely. He needs a carefully managed nutrition plan to help him regain his health without causing additional problems. This is exactly why we've spent years building our medical barn. We have climate controlled housing for pigs recovering from medical issues. We have soft stall flooring that supports animals with mobility challenges. We have years of experience rehabilitating obese pigs and performing corrective hoof trims on pigs whose feet have become severely overgrown. To the best of our knowledge, there is not another sanctuary in Georgia currently able to provide this exact combination of facilities and specialized care for a pig in his condition. We know Southern Oaks Sanctuary also has the expertise to care for pigs like him, but they are currently full. When that veterinarian walked into the home today and saw what he needed, she didn't hesitate. She called us. Sometimes saying yes isn't about having space. It's about being the right resource at the exact moment an animal needs one. Miki, our board chair said it perfectly: "When one door closes, another door opens. I think this was Miss Piggy letting you know. I think they say grief is just love with nowhere to go. She wanted you to give your love to another." No one could ever replace Miss Piggy. There will only ever be one OG Grammy Pig. She taught our children compassion. She welcomed countless rescued pigs into our family. She spent years showing us what unconditional love looks like. Nothing will ever take her place. But maybe the love she leaves behind doesn't disappear. Maybe it becomes the strength to open our hearts to the next animal who has nowhere else to go. This morning, as we prepared to say goodbye to one precious pig, another one was unknowingly beginning his journey to us. Tonight our hearts are broken. Tonight, because of Miss Piggy, another pig will have the chance to feel cool air on his skin, walk without pain, and finally experience the life he deserves. I think she would have liked that very much. ❤️