last grass 2019

I am not a Drama Queen! But I am happy now

Way-aye, Roscoe here.

I am not a drama queen, which is what Bertie called me last week.  I was genuinely right upset about everything going on.

But Mam sat down with me and we had a chat. Eventually I told her I was upset she’d given the little ones away, and she said, “but that’s what happens with foster piggies. I look after them for a while, and Auntie Sophie finds them a nice new home, and that’s where they’ve gone.”

Well, I didn’t know that.  I didn’t realise they’d gone the day before we’d gone to Hampshire, I thought she’d left them behind and they’d disappeared, and then Mam disappeared for two days the next week, and… Anyway, now I understand, and Mam’s reassured me that I’m not going anywhere without her, unless she’s so sick someone else has to look after us, and she’s not planning on that any time soon.

And she’s let me go back to live with Neville, because she saw how much I was missing him.  She told me if I start bullying him I’ll be out again.  I don’t bully Neville.  He just disagrees with what I tell him to do sometimes, and if he didn’t do that we’d get on perfectly all the time, instead of just most of the time.  She sniffed in that way she does when she doesn’t believe me.

So I’m back with Nev in our run, and he’s happy with that. And Biggles is next door so we can chat, and he’s happy with that, and Bertie’s in the run above, and we can chat and run around together during floor time, and he’s happy with that.

So we’re all happy now.

Although we’ve had our last grass of the year, well, out in the run at any rate. It was yummy, and there was lots of it, but it takes ages to get dry, so we won’t go out if it’s wet or cold. And it’s only warm enough if the sun’s shining on us.

And Mam is working hard on her books and on stuff about houses, and she’s pretty happy too. And she’s started to prepare for Christmas. Well, she told me she’d ordered some Christmas tree decorations with pictures of Bertie & Biggles, and Nev & me. Apparently she’s got one for all the pigs in George’s GP world, so we’re part of her Christmas always.

See you next time

Roscoe xx

 

Late night grass time

I don’t like to complain, but Mummy keeps going out in the afternoon and it’s nearly dark, or even really dark, when she comes back.

A couple of nights last week she came back when the sun was in the sky, but not in the garden, not even in Roscoe & Neville’s run.  We were all pleased she put us out on the grass for a little while, but really, it was just a little while.  Then at the weekend it rained.  Well, Saturday it rained, and Sunday before Mummy went out she dried the grass for us with the towel, and said it might be dry enough when she came back, but she doubted it.

Well, don’t you know, but she was right.  Or so she said.  I’m supposed to believe Mummy when she says things like that, but it was still sunny out, so why wasn’t it dry enough.

Well, I suppose at least we got a little bit of late night grass time last week. There won’t be much more of it, Mummy says.  The leaves are starting to cover up the grass, so I suppose that means it’s going to be winter soon.  I hate winter.

Then again, after winter comes spring.

I don’t like September

It’s been cold and wet and then it got nice and sunny, but it was still wet.  How does that happen?

Mummy goes out on nice days with a towel, and comes in again a few minutes later with a wet towel.  She says she’s been drying the grass for us, so that we can go out later, if it’s dry enough.  Well, can’t you make it properly dry, Mummy?  She says she can only get the worst of the dew off (what’s dew?) and the sun has to do the rest, but the sun doesn’t come into the garden as early as it does in June and July.  We just have to wait and hope. Continue reading “I don’t like September”