Victor was born on 20th Feb 2008, and Vikki gave me pictures of him at one and two days old – he was so cute. How could he not be? Born in the rescue to a sow from a massive rehoming effort, he had the same face as his mum Snowy and his auntie Kiki, who I also had the pleasure to meet.
Vikki called him Vince, and the people who chose him as a companion for their pig Hugo changed it to Linus. When they had to give them up, due to losing their home in the recession, Vikki took them back, and advertised them. 4 weeks later I went round to look at them, with a carrier in my car just in case, and brought them home in a snowstorm, a complete whiteout.
I immediately changed his name to Victor and the rest, as they say, is history.
Vic was simply the sweetest, kindest, most amiable pig, and cheeky with it. He got on with everyone, and everyone got on with him. He had all six of his birthdays with me, and we celebrated every one.
His favourite present was his James Bond tunnel
He loved his snuggletunnel, and he loved the garden too. His favourite subject was grass, and he sampled it north (Mull), south (Devon) and east (Norfolk), but we never got to go west.
After George and Hugo died, Victor moved in with Fred. They were two old codgers together, but they got along just fine.
After Fred died, Vic took on the responsibility for two wee lads, just three weeks old, Dylan and Dougall. He made a fantastic uncle, and it certainly isn’t his fault that Dylan is Mr Mischief. He was born that way!
How those boys grew – from Christmas above to their first birthday…
Vikki still came visiting and he was always pleased to see her.
When Hector and Humphrey fell out, it was also time for the youngsters to have the cage on their own, so Vic returned to the cage he’d shared with Hugo, but this time sharing with Humphrey. Again, they got on ok, but Humphrey’s confidence had been severely dented. Vic helped him relax again, I think.
Vic had a series of health problems which grew as he got older. He suffered from impaction, needed a liver supplement, and for the last year he’s been suffering from arthritis, or rather, having pain relief for it. In September he had a fit when he was sitting on my lap. I don’t know whether this was an isolated incident, but I suspect he had another one in the early morning, and although I treated him for his ailments as usual, he died in late morning, snoozing his way away. I am glad it was at home, listening to the birds and in his comfortable bed.
Vic’s 6th birthday