Why is Mummy out so much?

Hello, Bertie here.

Today I will ask a question I’ve been thinking about for ages.

Why does mummy spend so much time away from home?

We only spend a little time each day out of our houses, and then sometimes a nice long time in the garden, like we did on Sunday.

But last week, Mummy spent most of every day out of the house, and sometimes she didn’t come home until it was dark, as well.

Percy says that sometimes she wears golf uniform, and sometimes just ordinary golf clothes.  If she’s in uniform it means she’ll probably be out longer.  He doesn’t know why but thinks it’s a more formal occasion.

Well, if that’s true there are far too many of them.  She should stop, immediately.

I bet she won’t take any notice of me, though.

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Time is funny stuff

Hello, Percy here.  I hope you enjoyed the posts from Bertie and Roscoe in the past couple of weeks.

I’ve been sitting comfortably on my pile of hay, thinking deep thoughts.  Sometimes I sit in my tent, or my tunnel, or on my bed.  I now have both beds.  The newest one, which Midge and I got last autumn came back from the cleaners and I slept in it for a week, because it was Midge’s favourite, but I haven’t slept in it since.

Sometimes I go over to the place where Bertie’s cage starts and sit and watch what he’s up to.  But then I go back and sleep on my pile of hay.  Bertie is funny because he rarely sleeps in his bed.  He sleeps half in and half out.  Sometimes he puts his head on the bed and his body on the floor, and most times he puts his body in the bed and leans his head over the side. As long as he’s comfortable!

I don’t know why I don’t fancy sleeping in either of Midge’s and my beds at the moment.  Maybe they just remind me of him.  Maybe it’s because he’s not sleeping on top of the tunnel, facing me.  It’s only just gone three weeks since he left us, but it seems like months.

Then again, it’s a year since Kevin left us, and that seems like forever. Sometimes I wonder where he is and then I remember. I do that with Midge too. It’s funny to think I’ve had my lump all this time since Kevin left us.  Dr Sally thinks I’m a wonder.  I think that’s a good thing.

I’m fed up with my lump, though. Mummy always gives me a big cuddle when I have to have my meds but I’m fed up with having my meds. The chewy ones are okay though. I find it easier to bite things that stay in chunks rather than things that wrap around my teeth, like lettuce.  Mummy’s noticed I leave a lot of my breakfast.  I can’t really be bothered with it.  Bertie usually finishes it off, I think.  I like the herbs, though.  And the strawberry leaves. And my special pellets.

Why does time go fast, and then go slow? Why does it go fast when I’m sleeping, or when the sun’s out? Why is there more time for cuddles in the morning than in the evening?  I don’t know the answer to any of these questions. If you know, do tell me.

Roscoe

Grass at last!

Way-aye, Roscoe here.

We’ve had some lovely days of weather, and some lovely grass time too. Mam brought us in last night when we’d only been out a wee while, but then she came back after bein’ out at golf all day.  She did that Friday too. But she’s been givin’ us an hour or two in the garden each day, and that’s nice.  She’s also been givin’ us some nice fresh leaves from the garden each morn’n – yum!

Mostly we’ve been runnin’ in a nice large area between the veggie patches and the patio thing. I think we’ve done a grand job of mowin’ that, so I hope we go out to a new patch today.

Bertie has had his own little stretch of grass that goes around the corner to meet up with Biggles and Percy, then their bit comes back alongside the veggie patch to meet us.  I like bein’ able to speak to all of them.  I spend a fair few minutes each day standin’ at the bars, whifflin’ at them to come across and chat.  Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t.  Depends how busy they are with the mowin’, I’d say.

I reckon Bertie isn’t eatin’ anywhere near enough of his grass.  It’s easy to say well, he’s only one person, but he’s done less than half what Biggles and Percy have eaten. Then again, Neville and I have a patch that’s more than twice Bertie’s, and we’ve been ‘very diligent’, as Mam would say.

I don’t think Mam’s taken any photos, though, so you’ll have to make do with old ones.

April grass

Did you notice that young Bertie blogged again last week?  Percy says he’s right grown-up since Midge died. Aye, it’s an experience to be with a pig near the end of his life.  Makes you think.

Apart from Percy’s lump, we’re all fine here.  Percy says sometimes he’s fine, sometimes he’s not.  He gets by though.  He’s a bonny lad.

Kevin likes his cakeSee you next time.

PS Percy reminded me that it’s Kevin’s anniversary on Wednesday so we might be a bit sad that day.  But I never knew Kevin, so Neville and I will just be respectful, like.

Percy’s still sad and his lump’s back

Hello everybody, it’s Bertie here.  I’m back!

Percy didn’t feel like blogging today.  He’s okay, he’s eating, which he wasn’t at the start of last week.  Mummy is much happier about him.  He’s on morning and evening meds because his lump has come back.  It’s moved though.  It’s now behind his jaw.  I can’t tell the difference but Percy says he can.  Mummy can feel it too.

We miss Midge. He was fun to live next door to, because I could tease him.  Percy’s not so easy to tease.  Mummy says I shouldn’t tease anyway because he’s not well. But Percy’s missing Midge, even though they did a lot of bickering recently.  Percy says Midge probably wasn’t well and we didn’t realise.  Okay.

We haven’t been out in the garden this week.  Mummy says it’s been cold and wet.  But it was sunny one day when we had visitors.  Mummy was pleased because it helped the house and garden look nice. Mummy’s been clearing all the boxes from our room, and tidying up her desk and our things.  It looks pretty good now, I can tell you.

Apart from that, I’m looking forward to going outside again, because I like the feel of real grass on my feet. The birds all sing at us too, and tell us off if there’s something they want in our run. A squirrel came and swung on the tube that hangs on a post nearby.  She was nearly as big as us, but had a long bushy tail.  I thought it was very clever the way she used her hands to take the pellets from the tube.  I just eat mine with my mouth, which she did too, but she also put her hand in the hole and pulled out some to put in her mouth.  Maybe I should try that.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

Apparently today’s the anniversary of the Great Escape from Jersey.  Percy says Kevin used to talk about it.  He came with Colman to live here and a lot of other piggies went all over the place.  I think someone still lives with Auntie Doris and Uncle Bob.  Here’s a photo of Kevin and Colman when Col was getting old.

Kevin with Colman

And here they are on the day they arrived here.  Percy has that white and red thing in his cage with him at present.  It’s to keep him company.

Colman and Kevin 30.4.12
Colman and Kevin April 30 2012
midge and percy

We’re in mourning for Midge

Hello everybody, Percy here.

Mummy asked me if one of the others should blog today, but I’m feeling a little better, so I said I’d do it.  I want to talk about Midge of course.  I felt terrible all Friday and Saturday, but Mummy explained it was all right to grieve for someone, and when that someone was Midge, he was bound to leave a big hole in our lives.  I smiled at that, because really, Midge was very large!

I met Midge when I arrived here in 2015.  He’d already been here a year then.  He arrived with his brother Oscar from Auntie Vikki’s home, in the October of 2014.  I was surprised at that because he wasn’t living with Oscar then.  They fell out before it even got to their first Christmas.  I have no idea why.  Midge was a very agreeable chap, and although Oscar could be a bit stand-offish, he was okay, really.  We got on okay, anyway.  I suppose that was the long and the short of it.  They got on with everybody except each other.  I don’t understand it, but it’s true.

Midge and I got together after Kevin died.  Kevin lived next door to Midge for a bit, and I’d moved into his cage when Colman died.  I think that was how it worked, anyway.  It gets confusing.  We call it ‘chase the cage’ and see who gets which one whenever a large or more desirable one becomes empty.  Anyway, Midge and I got on well most of the time.

Recently we’d been bickering a bit.  I don’t know who started it, but I think Midge was just touchy about things.  You know, a simple thing would make him flare up and tell me off.  Mummy says now that maybe that was the start of his illness, but we didn’t realise it.  I know she took him to see Dr Sally with me a couple of times, but Dr Sally couldn’t find anything obviously wrong, and Mummy couldn’t give her any definite symptoms.  But Midge responded to some metacam, so he was obviously in a little pain.  He liked any sort of medicine after that.  Mummy shared an artheritis tablet between us in the evening.  He liked that.  So do I.

We liked it even more on Monday, when we got out into the garden for the first time this year. Mmm, fresh grass. Mummy took some photos of everyone, but all you can see of Midge and me is our backs as we lounge in some lovely long grass in the shade.

But on Thursday, after Mummy went out to her bird club, Midge staggered around the cage and said he didn’t feel well.  Then he fell onto his side and started kicking.  It was very frightening for me, I can tell you.  I went to see if he was okay, and of course he wasn’t.  He was very frightened too. I couldn’t help him back onto his feet and he couldn’t get up, and I could see he wasn’t really hearing anything I was saying to him either.

Then Mummy came home, took one look at him, picked him up and cuddled him on her lap for a little while, and gave him some medicine.  Then she phoned the vet and talked to Dr Louise.  I could hear what she was saying, but it wasn’t very helpful.  She asked what diazapan was, and said she didn’t have anything like that.  Said ‘yes’ and ‘I see’ a few times, then stopped talking and put the phone down.  Then she took Midge downstairs, sorted out our hay and cucumber, and said good night to us.  Oh, yes, she told me not to worry about Midge, she was going to sit up with him all night, but he might go across the Rainbow Bridge.

Well, I think I thought he might, so I went to bed and tried to sleep. I think Mummy stayed awake most of the night.  She had the radio on downstairs.  There was nice peaceful music playing.  Then in the morning she brought Midge up to sit in the carry box while she sorted out our cuddles and breakfast.  He seemed to be sleeping then, but when I came up from floor time he was shaking again. So Mummy took him to the vets, but by the time she got there he’d gone over the Rainbow Bridge.

She brought him home and gave us each time to sit with him and say our goodbyes.

And since then I’ve been sitting in the corner with a piece of paper we were playing with. It still smells of him. So does the tunnel. I like that. Mummy washed his bed because he died in it and she said I wouldn’t like that smell.  I think she’s right.

I want to remember Midge like the lovely cuddly chap he was, before he got grumpy, which now we know was his illness talking.  He was such a nice companion, and I really enjoyed chatting with him and snuggling up together when we needed a bit of support.  He was ever so kind about my lump. Mummy says he may have had a lump on his brain that we couldn’t see.  I’m sorry we couldn’t see it, Midge. I hope you’re feeling better now, and I’ll see you again when I come over the Rainbow Bridge.

love from Percy.