She Was Joy

It is with deep sadness, we share that Joy will not be coming home from Cornell.

Over the past week, Joy experienced a sudden loss of movement in her back legs. Despite urgent veterinary care and every effort to understand what was happening, her condition progressed rapidly, and she lost all function and sensation in her hind end.

We did everything we could for her. And in the end, we made the most compassionate decision to let her go peacefully, free from pain.

After her passing, we learned that Joy had an aggressive mass affecting her spine. It had caused significant internal damage, including bleeding and a fracture, as the tumor weakened the bone around her spinal cord. Given the location and extent of the disease, it would not have been something that could be treated surgically.

Conditions like this are incredibly difficult to detect early. There are often no clear warning signs or blood markers, and advanced imaging like an MRI is typically the only way to diagnose it. By the time symptoms appear, it is often already too advanced.

But Joy was never defined by what her body was going through. 

Her doctors even remarked that you would never have known how much she may have been feeling—she carried herself with such quiet strength and resilience.

If you knew Joy, you felt her.

Joy didn’t just walk, she pranced and she carried a presence that is truly unforgettable.

She embodied her name, spreading joy everywhere she went. She was gentle, kind, and endlessly loving. Over time, she became a surrogate mother and sister to so many of the newer rescues, offering comfort in ways only she could.

Joy and her sister Wren came to us after surviving the unimaginable. As piglets, they were used in laboratory testing and burned with stainless steel rods. Most pigs never make it out of those places but somehow, these two did. You can still see the scars of that past, but it never touched who Joy was. She carried only love.

Wren and Joy were inseparable, our “supermodels,” beautiful inside and out. You could often catch them in the middle of their “sister chats,” finding each other, gently touching snouts. It was their ritual. Their language. Their way of saying: I’m here. You’re safe. We’re together.

They were living proof of something we say often:

They aren’t voiceless, you’re just not listening.

Now, Joy is with Wren again.

We like to imagine that somewhere, they’ve already found each other, touching snouts, picking up right where they left off. Because a bond like theirs doesn’t end. It simply changes form.

Losing Joy is heartbreaking. She was the kind of soul who made this place feel softer, warmer, more whole. But what she gave to the other animals, to every person who met her, and to all of us, will never leave.

Your support gave Joy a life filled with safety, compassion, and love. Something she was never meant to have but fully deserved. Thank you for being part of her story.

Thank you for loving Joy with us.

Prance on, sweet girl. You and Wren are together again.

Peace, Love & Pigs,

Todd