He Got to Become Matthew
Matthew was never supposed to have ten years.
Born into the dairy industry, the odds were against him from the beginning. Like so many male calves born into an industry that has little use for them, Matthew could have been denied the chance to grow up.
Instead, he came to sanctuary as a youngster.
And for more than ten years, Matthew got to become exactly who he was.
Sweet. Playful. Social. Sometimes opinionated. Unmistakable.
They Grew Up Together
He grew up alongside a herd that grew up with him.
Many of Matthew's herd mates came to sanctuary as youngsters and calves themselves. Over the years, they didn't simply grow larger. They grew together.
They groomed one another and played together. They stretched out beside one another to nap. They learned the rhythms of their days, moving as a herd to meals and rotating through the pasture according to a schedule that is entirely their own.
They comforted one another. They looked out for one another.
When someone left the pasture for veterinary care, the others noticed. They called for the friend who was suddenly missing. And when the trailer finally returned, they knew what that meant, too — gathering to welcome a herd mate home.
These were relationships built across years.
To stand in the presence of the herd is to understand something their size can sometimes obscure. For all their strength and size, cows are remarkably gentle animals. They get frightened. They seek reassurance. They play. They want comfort. They form attachments, and they notice when someone they love is gone.
Unmistakably Matthew
Matthew was part of that life for more than ten years.
He spent much of his time with Jupiter, Kelsey, and Levon, but he was social throughout the herd. And within those relationships, Matthew's personality was unmistakably his own.
He had a signature head bob that those who knew him learned to read. Sometimes it meant let's play. Other times, it meant give me some space.
And for all his size and strength, Matthew could be extraordinarily gentle.
We saw that especially with Breah.
As the smallest member of the herd and lowest in the herd hierarchy, Breah can sometimes be pushed away at mealtimes. With Matthew, there was always room beside him.
She could eat peacefully in his company. He had the size and standing to make her move, but he never seemed to need to assert either.
It was a small interaction, repeated over countless ordinary meals.
But those ordinary moments tell us so much about who someone is. Matthew’s gentleness was often most visible in moments like these.
One Morning, Everything Changed
And then, one morning, everything changed.
Matthew had suffered a sudden catastrophic leg injury. The severity of the injury meant there was no treatment or surgical option that could repair it. Matthew was in pain, and there was nothing medicine could offer that would change the outcome.
Because he could not be safely transported, veterinary care came to Matthew in the pasture.
There are moments in sanctuary when care means doing everything possible to help someone heal. And there are moments when an injury or illness cannot be healed, and care means recognizing when continuing would only prolong suffering.
For Matthew, there was no path to recovery. The responsibility then became giving him a peaceful goodbye.
He passed away in the pasture, in the place he knew, surrounded by the people who had cared for and loved him for so much of his life.
The Chance to Say Goodbye
His passing in the pasture also gave his herd something deeply important: the opportunity to say goodbye to a lifelong family member and friend.
Whenever circumstances allow, we give residents the opportunity to see a companion who has passed away before that resident leaves the sanctuary for the final time. When someone passes away from the sanctuary and can be brought home, we bring them home. When someone can remain with their herd or flock after passing, we give them that time together.
We cannot fully understand how other species experience death, what it means for them to have a final encounter with someone who has passed away, or how they grieve. But we know they form deep relationships. We know they recognize one another. We know they notice when someone is missing.
And we believe that when we can give them the opportunity to understand, in their own way, why someone they love is no longer going to return, we have a responsibility to do so.
This was the herd Matthew had grown up alongside, the companions with whom he had shared nearly his entire life.
Ten Years
Matthew was never supposed to have ten years.
And yet, he was given the time to become fully himself.
He grew up. He became part of a herd and helped shape the relationships within it.
He played with friends. He rested beside them. He welcomed Breah beside him at meals. He learned the rhythms of sanctuary and developed rhythms entirely his own.
He became Matthew.
He had ten years the world he was born into never intended for him to have.
And still, it wasn't nearly enough. We wish with everything in us that it could have been longer.
Goodbye, sweet Matthew.
You are deeply loved, and it was a privilege to watch you grow up. 💙
