Happily Ever Esther Read online

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2018 by ETWP, Inc.

  Foreword copyright © 2018 by Alan Cumming

  All recipes by Chef Linda Del Pizzo | Esther’s Kitchen

  Cover photography by the authors. Cover design by Elizabeth Stokes. Cover copyright © 2018 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Grand Central Publishing

  Hachette Book Group

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  First Edition: July 2018

  Grand Central Publishing is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Grand Central Publishing name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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  Unless noted, all photos courtesy of the authors.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Jenkins, Steve, 1982- author. | Walter, Derek, 1981- author.

  Title: Happily Ever Esther / Steve Jenkins, Derek Walter, and Caprice Crane.

  Description: First edition. | New York : Grand Central Publishing, 2018.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017046608 | ISBN 9781538728147 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781549169120 (audio download) | ISBN 9781538728123 (ebook)

  Subjects: LCSH: Swine as pets—Canada—Anecdotes. | Animal sanctuaries—Canada—Anecdotes. | Domestic animals—Care—Canada—Anecdotes. | Farm life—Canada—Anecdotes. | Human-animal relationships.

  Classification: LCC SF395.6 .J47 2018 | DDC 636.4/0887—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017046608

  ISBNs: 978-1-5387-2814-7 (hardcover), 978-1-5387-2812-3 (ebook), 978-1-5387-3194-9 (signed edition), 978-1-5387-3193-2 (B&N signed edition)

  E3-20180411-JV-NF

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Foreword

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Esther-Approved Recipes Raspberry Overnight Oats

  Fried Eggz and Toast

  Thick Black Pepper–Maple, Smoked, Rice-Paper Bacon

  Creamy Tomato Soup

  Grilled Turky and Cheeze Sandwich

  Esther’s Pulled Jackfruit Carnitas

  Wonder Scrapple

  The Derek Burger

  Steve’s Garlic Parm Fries

  Esther’s Cashew Parmesan Cheeze

  Esther’s Macaroni and Cheeze with White Cheddar–Style Cheeze Sauce

  Provolone Dolce–Style Cheeze

  Mango Piña Colada

  Chocolate Wine Cake

  Photos

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Newsletters

  To Esther. For inspiring us in a way we never imagined. For making us laugh, smile, and want to be better people. You represent everything good in this world, and we’ll forever be thankful for the day you came storming into our lives.

  To all the people who have embraced an Esther-Approved lifestyle, you can do it. The world is becoming a kinder place every day because of people like you.

  And to the millions of Esthers around the world that haven’t been so lucky. Slowly but surely the world is waking up; we’re just sorry it’s taking so long.

  FOREWORD

  It may seem strange to equate a 650-pound pig with a butterfly, but when the pig in question is Esther, I believe the comparison is valid.

  Just as chaos theory shows us that the flapping of butterfly wings can cause ripples of change to emanate across our universe and truly alter the path of our lives, so too have those of us who have been drawn into Esther’s spell had our horizons expanded, our preconceptions challenged, and our hearts swollen.

  It is not hyperbole to call Esther a phenomenon. She is a truly magical creature, not only in terms of the lives she has touched and the awareness she has raised, but most of all—and this is surely the root of all her other powers—she is just such a beautiful spirit to hang out with.

  Like many of her disciples, I became enamored with her initially via her social media presence, and my fascination with her only increased when I made the pilgrimage to the Happily Ever Esther Farm Sanctuary and was granted an audience with the Princess of Porcine.

  Of course, the two people whose lives have been most altered by Esther’s magic are her dads, Steve Jenkins and Derek Walter. To say their lives were turned upside down when they adopted what they thought was a teacup piglet would be insulting to understatements. They are now living on and running a farm animal sanctuary and managing a veritable Esther empire that includes merchandise, social media, cruises, and activism for a variety of animal and social causes.

  This book picks up where their last left off, and details the realities of suddenly finding themselves living in a freezing farmhouse and in charge of a farm that is rapidly filling up with rescue animals. To say they learn on the job is also an understatement, but what keeps them going is their love for a pig and the way she inspires them and so many other people to make the world a better, kinder place—even when she (spoiler alert) goes through her awkward teenager phase and won’t speak to them for days on end!

  This book is a lesson in resilience, grace, and love. The day I spent hanging out with Esther, Steve, and Derek (not forgetting Cornelius the turkey and Reuben and Shelby the dogs) was one of the fondest of my life. This book re-illuminated and reminded me of what it feels like to be a part of the Esther experience in all its shapes and forms, in all its joy and pain, in all its huge implications for how we can change the world, and in all its tiniest moments of purity, such as when you look Esther in the eye and you feel happy she is alive and you have been a part of her life.

  —Alan Cumming

  January 2018

  PROLOGUE

  Bringing home a new family member can be a life-altering experience. It’s something that should never be taken lightly. It usually happens only after months, sometimes even years, of research and planning. At least it does for any sensible person—something I, Steve, have never claimed to be.

  Animals have a way of finding me. Like our dog Shelby, whom we were just supposed to be babysitting, but then her family moved away and never came back. Or our cat Delores, who was the runt in a litter of barn cats a girlfriend brought to my attention. I went to feed the cats once and came home with Delores because the others wouldn’t let her eat.

  Yes, it’s a pattern.

  So when I got a message about a mini-pig that needed a home, there was only one thing I could do: say yes! Thankfully, my amazing partner, Derek, is never one to shy away from an adventure. But little did we know this was going to be unlike any adventure we had ever been on. Our sweet
, tiny, five-pound mini-pig grew up to be a 650-pound, full-sized commercial pig.

  Finding out the truth about who Esther was caused us to completely reevaluate who we were and how we lived our lives. Learning to live with a 650-pound pig in our 1,000-square-foot home nearly drove us to our breaking point. There were sleepless nights, heated conversations, and many, many tears. But we soldiered on and challenged ourselves in ways we had never dreamed of before.

  We thought we had been through the worst until we started an Esther the Wonder Pig Facebook page that would take things to a whole new level of crazy. Within weeks her page went viral, amassing over one hundred thousand likes in under eighty days. Unfortunately, we lived in a town whose bylaws prohibited us from keeping Esther. Facing the risk of losing her to town officials, we had a serious decision to make: shut down the page and quietly fade away… or get serious about realizing our new dream of opening a farm sanctuary. We knew we could rescue many more “Esthers,” along with other abused and abandoned farm animals that needed a safe-forever home.

  Five months after the page began—and less than two years after we met Esther for the very first time—we launched a crowdfunding campaign that raised more than $440,000 to buy the farm in just sixty days.

  We had somehow done what everyone told us was impossible. This was our Happily Ever Esther.

  CHAPTER ONE

  People often think about giving it all up and just moving to a farm. It’s an old cliché. Everything will be wonderful, they think. And in theory, sure—it sounds great. Waking to the melodious sounds of birds chirping, breathing in fresh air as you sip your morning coffee on the porch and watch the livestock frolic. (Here’s where the comedic record scratch would sound, to emphasize how wrong your theory would be.) The realities of actually closing up shop on the life you’ve always known and moving to a farm—when, by the way, you have never actually been a farmer—are frantic, crazy, and potentially insane.

  So, of course, that’s what we did.

  At first, none of the realities had sunk in quite yet; that would take a few more hours. And then deeper realities about the magnitude of what we’d committed to would sink in over the next few days, weeks, and months. But they couldn’t possibly set in yet, because there was still no normalcy. So we were just going with the flow, moment to moment, not even in the same area code of realizing what we had just done.

  There we were, being greeted by friends and strangers, in the middle of an extremely surreal situation. I mean, let’s be real, how many people move into their new home with a party for them already taking place? That was us. (We rarely do things without some sort of flourish.)

  When we first arrived at the farm, we had tons of guests on our property, milling about with wide eyes and big smiles, all there to welcome us to our new home. While we’d never moved to a farm before, we had previously changed homes, and that change had certainly never come with an army of well-wishers.

  All the fanfare and excitement made it impossible to really think about anything but what was happening in the moment. And that first moment was all about introducing Esther to her new home: a seemingly immeasurable farm.

  But let’s pause to set the scene: It was the first time Esther had been on the farm, finally getting her first look at this enormous playground. Esther was no longer our (admittedly poorly kept) secret, hidden away in a suburban home. Now she finally had some room to move, to get her groove on. We just hoped it wasn’t too much for her. (Or us.)

  While Esther was a bit shell-shocked at first, the comforting presence of Shelby, who helped guide her off the trailer and into her new pasture, seemed to put her at ease. We took Esther on a full-perimeter tour of the pasture, Shelby and our other dog, Reuben, on either side of her. And even though we were surrounded by all those guests, in that moment it felt like it was just us. Our little family of five: Derek, Esther, Shelby, Reuben, and me. (And of course the cats, but they weren’t going to tour the farm; they still had their knickers in a twist about the move. Something about the feline disposition doesn’t immediately take well to being uprooted.)

  I remember searching Esther’s face to see if I could read her mind or know what she was thinking. Was she happy? Did she like the pasture? Had we done well? There was definitely a spring in her step and that familiar smile on her face, which comforted me no end. After all, this whole venture was entirely for Esther’s sake. We really needed her to like it. And she seemed to, which was a relief.

  In a heartfelt if slightly awkward speech, Derek and I thanked everyone for being there. We were truly grateful for the support, but, to be honest, we also wanted the party to be over. I know that sounds terrible; people had come a long way to “see us in.” (Is that the correct term? I know when you’re going away, people “see you off,” but this was the opposite of that.) They’d all traveled from far and wide, and we certainly appreciated it. But there we were, checking our watches and waiting for them to leave. It sounds a bit harsh, but I think anyone in our situation would have felt the same. This whole process was incredibly overwhelming. We had a lot to do. Derek even had to make one last trip back to our former home, in Georgetown, to get the last of our belongings, and he couldn’t leave until all these people did.

  Granted, this had been our idea. We’d welcomed people to witness our first day really taking over the farm, particularly Esther’s first steps at her new home. But if you’ve ever made a big move, you know how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and that feeling was (at least) tripled for us. We needed time to ourselves, to get centered, to get our plans together and figure out what we’d gotten ourselves into.

  By the time it was just us again, it quickly became just me. Derek was en route to Georgetown, and I was at the farm virtually alone. When we moved from Georgetown, we planned to let Esther decide whether she’d continue to sleep in the house or become a barn pig, and Esther had made her decision clear: she and the dogs had fallen asleep in the house. So I was free to explore the new place entirely by myself. It was a very rare moment of total solitude, and it was amazing. I had time to really take in the day and (of course) overwhelm myself with my own thoughts. Things got more and more frightening as I let my mind wander, so I poured myself a glass of wine and took a few deep breaths, trying to remain calm and visualize what this new life would be.

  I walked out to the barn and around the silo. After a while of fantasizing, I realized it hardly seemed fair for me to just be relaxing at the farm while Derek was working like crazy at the Georgetown house. So I went back into the house and tried to put some boxes away. It was the least I could do.

  When Derek returned, he somehow found the energy to unload the rest of our stuff from the truck. We put our mattress in the sunroom and tried to move the boxes to the locations where we’d be unpacking them, to make life easier. (You know the feeling on the back end of a big move: you just want to drop every box in the closest open space. Tempting, sure, but it just makes things much more challenging later on.)

  By the time we finished moving the last box, Esther was already on the mattress, happily snoring away. Can’t say we were surprised.

  It was tough winding down from such an excitement-filled day. We didn’t have TV or internet service yet. It was just us, our dogs, and our cell phones on the couch, a pig in our bed. Our property had come with a mobile home where the daughter of the previous owner had lived with her husband, and we had put the cats in there for the day, because we knew people would be going in and out of the house, moving in the boxes and furniture, and the doors would be constantly open. We figured it would be safer to tuck the cats over there, so they could at least be out of their travel crates and explore the mobile home. When we finally decided to go to sleep, I wound up sharing the bed with Esther, while Derek slept on the couch.

  Waking up the next morning was surreal. For starters, I was in a sunroom on a mattress with a pig. But it was my first morning in these new surroundings, and I was startled when I opened my eyes. It took me a
minute to regroup and remember: Oh yeah, we bought a farm. We live here now. There’s Derek with one leg hanging off the couch. This is our new life.

  When we woke Esther up, we already had breakfast (pig kibble and fresh produce) waiting for her in the kitchen. Once Esther was satiated, the three of us went for a walk. It was our first walk as a family without crowds of well-wishers watching Esther’s every move, and she had a real jump in her step. We didn’t go too far, but enough to let Esther wander. It was all so new, and she wanted to dig up everything in sight. We let her go places we hadn’t gone the day before, such as into the field and into the forest. That’s where she was really excited to dig. It was pretty special just watching her explore, imagining all the things we’d do and build. The future.

  But the fantasizing was short-lived. We brought the cats into the house, and they were skittish. We’d see a blur of orange every now and then as a cat ran past. They might have thought we were going to catch them and take them away again. They were exploring every nook and cranny of the house, but the minute you walked into the room they’d duck and run for cover. It took them awhile to realize this was their new home and everything was okay. Our dogs get separation anxiety, so they stuck by us at all times for the first week.

  Also, the work had to start. There’s so much to do when you move to a new space—especially one that’s been unloved for such a long time, as our new home had been. The barn was filthy and needed to be addressed, but the most pressing issue was that the farm had no adequate fencing. There was an existing electric fence, but it didn’t work. We knew we would be getting a horse and a donkey soon, and we had to have fences in place by then.

  This was all new to me. I’d never built a fence before, let alone an electric one, but Derek seemed to understand what was going on. We made a Hail Mary plea to a couple of friends to help us, and with their assistance we replaced the existing electric fence with new and working materials. Luckily, the property had come with a couple of rolls of heavy-gauge wire, which got us started. We had to use T-bars to mount the fence, because we didn’t have time to get wood posts into the ground. The sellers had also told us that digging would be difficult because of all the rock. So using the metal T-bars was the quickest and easiest way to get something up rapidly.