Frankie, a rescued Nigerian dwarf goat at Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary. Illustration by Mina Wright
Mina Wright speaks out about the Nigerian dwarf goat Frankie, who had been confined in a basement with nothing to eat but rabbit pellets. Nigerian dwarf goats are herd animals and cannot survive alone. Mina is a volunteer at Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary in Poolesville, Maryland. She bears witness to the lives of farm animals who were discounted before finding freedom and peace at the sanctuary. In her sketches and essays, she tells the stories of individuals who were rescued from exploitation for meat and dairy.
My reflection about Frankie
Essay by Mina Wright
Like most farm animals, a Google search of Nigerian dwarf goats yields a litany of uses as reasons to breed them, all of which benefit humans and none of which recognize the goats’ standing in a moral community simply because they are alive and aware.
We seem to be hell-bent on negating the obvious: namely, that animals are capable of a range of emotions, that they feel joy and sadness, have unique personalities, likes and dislikes, and care about others. They feel pain and despair, suffer loss – of family, friends, freedom, and ultimately their lives – all because we see them only as providers.
Nigerian dwarf goats are particularly unlucky, promoted as dual purpose producers, meaning they’re good for milk as well as for meat; their gentle temperament and small size make them easy to handle, too.
Most agree that dwarf goats are adorable to boot, which in theory would suggest that they might be spared the fate of the 500+ million goats butchered every year for food; alas, even the farm animals we treasure for their easy nature and irresistible cuteness aren’t spared the slaughterhouse.
Enjoying the life intended for him
Frankie is a wonderful exception to the rule, however, along with his friends at Poplar Spring Animal Sanctuary who enjoy the lives intended for them. Last fall he arrived as the tiniest of babes; he’d been kept in a basement with nothing to eat but rabbit pellets for long enough that his growth had been compromised.
I remember holding him for the first time when he was about two months old, the size of a not yet fully grown cat. He was understandably scared at first, would call out for Terry, his human mom, who bottle fed him as a baby, whenever she was out of sight.
He was named after Sinatra because of his iridescent blue gemstone eyes, the color of which hasn’t changed. Frankie certainly has, however; now the size of a springer spaniel, he roams independently and, if yesterday is any indication, has also developed quite a penchant for the ladies, not unlike his namesake.
His is a story that shouldn’t be exceptional, of course, but is sadly so. As long as we ignore the suffering caused by our fixation on meat and dairy, the Frankies of the world will have to rely on the too few humans who care.
And that’s sad, indeed, for all of us. #portraitsofsanctuary
As part of the Farm Sanctuary Movement, cattle ranchers and animal farmers are making a transition to plant-based farming. and many of them are becoming vegan in the process.
