Bertie and Percy

P is for Percy, also known as Mr Percy Pig

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Percy was my uncle.  He looked after me and Biggles when we first left our birth mum and aunties and sister and cousins and came to live here. He had led a fairly quiet life up till then, but we soon changed all that.

Percy was a mystery pig, because nobody knew how old he was, or where he’d come from.  Except Mummy saw him in a shop advertised as being 5 years old, and she thought he would fit in well with the pigs here then. Also she didn’t think many people would want a five year-old black pig five weeks before Christmas.

Well, she was wrong, wasn’t she, because she did!  She went back to get him two or three days later.  He lived in the grey cage opposite the others who were here then, Dylan and Dougall, and Oscar on his own. And Kevin was upstairs with Midge. I think that was how it worked, anyway.  Then it wasn’t long before Dougall died, and Dylan went upstairs to live with Kevin and Midge, and Percy moved into the blue cage here we found him a year and a bit later.

It turned out he wasn’t five at all, though.  Mummy and her friends worked out he couldn’t have been much more than eighteen months old when she brought him home.  He grew quickly when he was here and developed what Mummy calls a ‘classic boar shape’.

When we arrived, Percy was astonished.  He was also worn out with us rushing around and jumping on him.  He soon sorted us out and explained how pigs should behave.  I’m afraid I didn’t listen to his teachings much, although I liked the stories he told us.

Percy managed the blog for a long time, and did the A to Z in April with Kevin. He’d gone upstairs to live with Midge and Kevin then, and we’d taken over the blue cage. And maybe Biggles had moved next door to me. I get confused.

Then Percy got a lump on his cheek, which was called a sarcoma, and Dr Sally and the other doctor he saw couldn’t do anything about it, so eventually he died. That was very sad. I still miss him a little, but I’m usually too busy with Roscoe and Neville to miss him much.  I remember snuggling him, and him reassuring us when there were scary things like thunderstorms, though.

He was a very amiable person, and got on with everyone. I think he was very clever, as well.  He had little tricks and signals he did with Mummy. Like patting her shoulder was a signal. I’ve learned to do it too, but sometimes I forget to do it at the right time.

So that’s P for Percy.  Next week, Roscoe’s got the letter Q.  We’re all trying to give him ideas on what it might stand for, but nobody’s come up with anything yet.

Princelings box set 1 coverTomorrow is Guinea Pig Appreciation Day, and Mummy says ten lucky people can get the first 3 ebooks in the Princelings series FREE at Smashwords until midnight tomorrow night, Pacific time, which means about 8 am on Wednesday if you’re in the UK. You need to add the code RL68R at the checkout. Be lucky – and I hope you enjoy it!

Bye for now

Bertie xxx

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.

Humphrey’s day was yesterday

Hello Percy here.  It’s my turn to do a remember post about someone I didn’t meet.

Yesterday it was three years since Humphrey went over the Rainbow Bridge.  Midge and Oscar arrived a few days later so they never met him either.

Humphrey

Humphrey was a sheltie type of guinea pig, with long, flowing hair, not like Dylan, Dougall and Neville’s because they are Peruvians, with long hair that has a number of whorls or rosettes in it.  It means Humphrey looks smooth in his photos.  Mummy think Roscoe has some sheltie in him, as he has medium length hair, but it doesn’t really show.  She says it’s maybe one reason he reminds her of Auntie Dawn’s Saku.  I never met Saku, either.  Shelties are known for their calm, laid-back temperaments, and Humphrey got on with everybody, even Hector.

Humph and Hec

Like Roscoe and Neville, Humphrey and Hector were left all alone in their house when their owners moved away.  Fortunately for Roscoe and Neville, someone found them quickly, but Humphrey and Hector were starving when they were found a month later.  Humphrey was always very grateful that Mummy was his new Mummy.  He used to look at her as if he couldn’t believe his luck.  I know what that means.

Humphrey started getting very thin, although his body was still fat and his weight was fine.  Mummy took him to the vet a few times, and eventually the vet found a lump growing inside him.  It was too large to have an operation, and he died the next day.  He had a very peaceful ending.  He was a very peaceful person.  I’ve been told all this by the piggies that went before me.  Everyone liked Humphrey.  He’s in the picture on the front page, lined up with Victor and Dylan and Dougall.  Victor lived with him until he died earlier the same summer.

Talent Seekers and Humphrey

Mummy’s been watching my lump carefully.  She says Dr Sally and she have decided to let me have an operation on it Wednesday fortnight.  I think I’m looking forward to it, sort of.  I’ll tell you all about it in afterwards.  I’ve got another post to write before that, though.

 

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