On a warm autumn morning in Erie, a potbelly pig named Mississippi shuffles through straw with cantankerous confidence. She’s the undisputed matriarch of the pig pen – though if you scratch her belly, her ornery facade melts away. Within seconds, she flops onto her side, powerless against her favorite indulgence.

A few barns over, Maui – the smallest of the big pigs – pricks his ears at the sound of approaching footsteps. He knows the rhythm of his favorite caretaker’s shoes, leaping from a dead sleep into a sprint across the barnyard for a kiss or a snack.

At Luvin Arms Animal Sanctuary, every resident has a story like this. Founded in 2015 by Shaleen and Shilpi Shah, the nonprofit has grown from a single rescue horse, Jale (short for Jalapeño and pronounced Holly), to a family of 153 residents. Over the last decade, the sanctuary has rescued more than 800 farmed animals from neglect, abuse and difficult beginnings, and given them a permanent home.

The Shahs, originally from India, built the sanctuary on the principles of ahimsa (nonviolence), karuna (compassion) and jivdaya (respect for all beings). Their goal isn’t to shame or divide, but to create understanding. “We balance advocating for farm animals without judging people for their everyday decisions,” said Executive Director Kelly Nix. “Our responsibility is to show the sentience, personality and individuality of each resident.”

Nix first came to the sanctuary as a guest in 2020. After 14 years in public education, she joined Luvin Arms as Education and Outreach Coordinator in 2022 and later became its director. She knows nearly every resident by name, greeting each like family – much as she does with the sanctuary’s staff.

Nix is especially bonded with Gilmour, a gentle giant of a pig whose likeness she carries as a tattoo. Each day, she makes time to simply walk among the animals, reinforcing the relationships that fuel her work. “My goal is to get every person who visits the sanctuary to walk away connected with at least one animal,” she said.

That mission comes alive in experiences designed to connect people with animals in unexpected ways. Take the Cow Cuddle Experience, where visitors lean into the gentle warmth of a resting cow. With slower heartbeats and a body temperature slightly higher than humans, cows can ease stress, calm the nervous system and even trigger oxytocin – the “cuddle hormone.”

Last year, more than 33,000 people visited the sanctuary for tours, school field trips and specialty programs such as Cocoa and Cuddles, where plant-based hot chocolate accompanies introductions to barn residents. Each experience is family-friendly and educational, and Erie provides a rural backdrop within easy reach of Colorado’s Front Range.

Education extends through partnerships with Colorado universities. Students from the University of Denver’s animal law program and Colorado State University’s veterinary program gain hands-on experience caring for older farm animals – something rarely encountered in traditional livestock settings. The relationship is mutually beneficial: students learn advanced care techniques while animals receive top-notch attention. Several CSU interns have stayed on as full-time staff.

But some lessons can’t be taught in a classroom. Tito, the sanctuary’s ambassador, arrived as a 10-day-old calf and now greets visitors with calm presence. Barnaby, an Angus cow, was once discovered standing beside a family Christmas tree after teaching himself to open a sliding glass door. Today, he lumbers around the pasture like a playful, oversized puppy.

In Big Barn, former dairy goat Dezi learned to ride a skateboard. Garbanzo, a Nigerian Dwarf goat, shows off his skills as an up-and-coming soccer star.

Sometimes it’s the animals themselves who show the greatest compassion. Caretakers once watched Lizzie the pig tuck straw and drape a blanket over her sick sister Lily – a small act of kindness that    they never forgot.

Those moments, said Nix, define the sanctuary. “It shifts people’s perspectives from animal to individual,” she said. “That’s how change happens. Not through judgment, but through connection.”

After 10 years, Luvin Arms has become more than a refuge. It’s a place where animals are seen, not as a herd, but as individuals with names, quirks and stories worth sharing.