The Magic and Joy That Is Jaffa Roo

You all know Jaffa’s story. She’s not just a kangaroo—she’s the heart of Amaris. The soul of our sanctuary. The gentle guardian who turns sorrow into sanctuary and fear into family.

From the moment a joey arrives—frightened, fragile, unsure—Jaffa is there. She greets them with a kiss and a nuzzle, as if to whisper, “You’re safe now.” She watches over them in the pen, follows me on bushwalks as I teach them the rhythm of the wild, and lays beside them as they sleep—her presence a lullaby of comfort.

But Jaffa’s magic doesn’t stop there. She’s our nurse, too.

When a joey is sick, it’s Jaffa who stays close. She knows. She senses. She’ll gently nudge them, groom them, curl around them like a living blanket of love. And when the sun begins to set, she gathers the joeys—one by one—into the enclosure. She makes sure they’re safe, warm, and tucked in for the night. I never have to worry. Jaffa has it covered.

And then, something beautiful happens. She takes over.

Where once I held the joeys close, now Jaffa does. She becomes their teacher, their protector, their mother in spirit. I watch her guide them with tenderness I could never teach. She knows when to step in, when to step back, and when to simply be near.

Remember When… There are moments that live forever in the heart. Moments that remind us love doesn’t need words—it just shows up. And Jaffa Roo has shown up, time and time again.

Remember when the joeys were chased by a dog, trembling and scattered? It was Jaffa who gathered them. One by one, she led them into the pen, her body shielding theirs, her calm presence telling them, “You’re safe now.” I didn’t even have to ask. She just knew.

Remember when Mardi, Mia’s baby was left alone, too scared to move after the dog frightened Mia away? Jaffa stayed. All night. She curled around that tiny joey, never leaving, until Mia found the courage to come home. That kind of love—unspoken, unwavering—is the kind that heals.

Remember Bandit’s first hops? Oh, how he hooned around like he’d discovered flight. And there was Jaffa, bounding beside him, matching his joy with her own. She didn’t just watch—she celebrated. She made his first freedom feel safe.

Remember Rossi? So sick. So fragile. For months, Jaffa nursed him. She brought him into the enclosure each night, curled beside him, kept him warm when his body couldn’t. I watched her do what no medicine could—she gave him comfort, and the will to keep going.

And remember Ellie? Chased by a big male kangaroo, terrified and lost. Jaffa brought her home. And then—without hesitation—she turned and went back for Elsie. Two joeys, two hearts, both carried by one who never gives up.

These aren’t just memories. They’re proof. Proof that love lives here. That healing is possible. That sometimes, the most powerful carers don’t wear uniforms—they hop.

Jaffa Roo is more than a kangaroo. She’s the keeper of our stories. The guardian of our grief. The joy in our journey. And every time she curls around a joey, she curls around me too.

Jaffa doesn’t just care for joeys—she cares for me too. She reminds me why we do this. Why love matters. Why healing is possible.

She is the joy in the grief. The light in the hard days. The reason we believe in second chances.

So here’s to Jaffa Roo—our miracle in fur. If you’ve ever needed a reason to smile today, she’s it.

And So We End Where Love Begins

In the quiet moments, when the bush is still and the stars begin to blink awake, I often find myself watching Jaffa. Not just as a carer, but as a keeper of something sacred. She doesn’t ask for recognition. She doesn’t need applause. She simply loves—with her whole being.

She has taken over my role in ways I never imagined. Not replacing me, but expanding the circle of care. She holds the joeys when my heart is too heavy. She brings them home when my legs are too tired. She teaches them the language of safety, of belonging, of joy.

And in doing so, she teaches me too.

Jaffa Roo is the living proof that healing is possible. That love multiplies. That even in a world that can be cruel and chaotic, there are still miracles—soft, furred, and quietly magnificent.

So if your heart feels a little fuller today, if your eyes are misty with the kind of tears that come from remembering something beautiful… that’s Jaffa’s gift to you.

She is the joy in our grief. The light in our shadows. The reason we keep going.

Thank you, Jaffa. For being the magic and joy in my life