08/30/2026
Have you ever fostered a puppy?
Have you experienced the magic and wonder of the first time those little brown eyes looked into yours? So timid but trusting, so eager for affection. That tiny tail gets wiggling and excited whimpers escape her lips. You envelope that little one in your arms and ask the rescue her name. “Poppy,” you’re told. “Her name is Poppy.” “Poppy,” you whisper, smiling down at her. She cuddles closer to you and licks your cheek... 🥰❤️🐾
Poppy is so little. She’s spunky and playful. (And absolutely adorable!) She’s dependent upon you for absolutely everything. She’s a lot of work initially, but you quickly fall into the rhythm of a steady routine. You feed her, change her blankets, care for her, love her. You go for walks together, through the beautiful fields by your house. She barks joyfully and runs to you every time you get home from work. You pet her head and she flops over, those little paws flopping in the air, begging for a tummy rub. So content. So happy. ❤️🐾
You know she is a foster… you’re only meant to care for her temporarily… But you can’t help it- you’re in love. You love watching her smile in her sleep. You love watching the silly way she eats, the gentle way she takes treats. You love just being beside her; her very presence brings such joy to your day. She makes your life better, simply by being in it. And she loves you. Man, does she love you. Her trust in you is unmatched- where you go, she wants to go. Wherever she is, she’s safe as long as she’s with you. 🥰
But what if you weren’t fostering her in America? What if, when she wasn’t so little anymore, you brought her back to the place from which you fostered her, and instead of getting adopted into a loving family, you found out your sweet Poppy girl was being sold into the dog-meat trade. 💔😭
Could you hand her over?
Could you watch her be roughly loaded onto a crowded transport truck, mashed in with dozens of other distressed dogs? Could you listen to her cries, watch her struggle as she tries to get free? Could you look into the eyes of your sweet Poppy who loves you, who trusted you, and send her to a violent death? Would your stomach turn knowing her entire life was traded for someone’s 10-minute meal? 😔
You couldn’t do it, could you?
Now imagine if Poppy were a pig... 🐽
Poppy is so little. She’s spunky and playful. (And absolutely adorable!) She’s dependent upon you for absolutely everything. She’s a lot of work initially, but you quickly fall into the rhythm of a steady routine. You feed her, give her fresh straw, care for her, love her. You go for walks together, through the beautiful pastures around the barn. She oinks joyfully and runs to you every time you come home from work. You pet her head and she flops over, those little hooves flopping in the air, begging for a tummy rub. So content. So happy. ❤️🐽
You know she is a 4H pig… you’re only meant to care for her temporarily… But you can’t help it- you’re in love. You love watching her smile in her sleep. You love watching the silly way she eats, the gentle way she takes apple slices. You love just being beside her; her very presence brings such joy to your day. She makes your life better, simply by being in it. And she loves you. Man, does she love you. Her trust in you is unmatched- where you go, she wants to go. Wherever she is, she’s safe as long as she’s with you.
Until the fair closes.
Until you hand her off…
She looks back at you… wondering why you’re not coming with her. Your eyes look sad. She’s never seen you look so sad. She’s loaded on to a transport trailer. She searches desperately for you, but she can’t see you anymore.
She’s not safe. 😢
She’s not safe. 😭
She knows this because you’re not there. She cries for you. She pushes herself behind the frantic others, her fear mirrored in their eyes, as she tries in vain to disappear from this horrible place. The truck starts moving. “Wait!!!”, she thinks desperately. They can’t leave. You aren’t here with her. Something is wrong. She’s not supposed to be here! 😩
The thunderous truck finally stops rumbling; how far she’s traveled, she doesn’t know. She’s hot. So hot. And hungry. And thirsty. So thirsty.
She watches other terrified young pigs get unloaded in front of her. Rough hands shove her, mean boots kick her trembling body into motion. These people are nothing like you. Your hands were always kind to her.
Shaking with fear, Poppy keeps moving to the front of the saddest line in the world. One by one, the others in front of her get sn**ched. She hears their terrified squealing. It pierces her ears and she cries. Where is she?? This is nothing like home!! Suddenly, the squealing stops. The line moves. The squealing starts again. Then it stops. Over and over and over. 💔🐽💔🐽💔
Another set of rough hands grab her and suddenly, it’s her turn. “Get over here, pig!” the man growls at her. “Poppy! My name is Poppy!” she thinks, her heart breaking. “What did I do wrong? Why am I here??” 💔😭
Whatever happens in this terrible room will happen to her next. She looks at the slick floor, red with heartache and death. The man points something at her head. She jerks back reflexively at the last second and it only grazes her. Barely stunned, she’s hoisted in the air by her leg as the sharp steel finds its spot on her throat. And as the darkness descends, your face is the last thing she sees. How she wishes she could have been safe with you forever instead of here.
She loves you.
She loves you.
She loves y……. 💔
Dedicated to the real 4H “Poppy’s” of the world… We wish you all could have found sanctuary. 🌈🐽🐽🐽🐽
And to our precious Zoey, the sweetest pig in the world… You were to be a 4H pig. Your life would have ended before your first birthday. Instead, you experienced a severe vaginal prolapse that the farmer tried to “fix” with a staple gun - SIX TIMES. 😭
How painful that must have been, sweet girl. But that injury saved your life. It brought you here. Where we get to watch you LIVE and just enjoy being a pig. You made it out. You are a miracle. ❤️
Please choose compassion so other pigs like Poppy and Zoey never have to experience that kind of terror and indescribable suffering. ❤️🩹🌱🐽❤️
✨The story portrayed of Poppy is fictional, written by a broken-hearted volunteer who upon first volunteering learned that pigs exhibited at fairs often do NOT get to go home again- and based on the probability of what pigs everywhere endure… 💔
