In Which Violet Gets Fed a Lot and I Meet A Pig Named Phil
Well, little Violet is turning into a bit of a porker. Rex is highly sensitive to her nocturnal grunting, and he jumps out of bed (or clambers up the ladder from his cellar) at all hours of the night to try to avert a pig-peeing incident. Whether or not he succeeds, he proceeds to mix up some pig formula and feed her. This happens almost exactly every two hours.
Violet probably doesn't need all these feedings, but it is just so darn fun to do it. She is so enthusiastic about her formula! Her little trotters scuffle on the linoleum as we hold her back, and she oinks loudly. The trick comes in letting her go at the precise moment where her forward thrust won't send her flying into the dish and splashing the contents all over the floor.
Dealing with the pig pee is not so much fun. So I'm kind of encouraging her to stay outdoors most of the time, where at least the pee goes on the porch and not on the living room floor. She hangs out in what we have taken to calling the "pig cave" under our funky peddler cart, where there's some hay that makes a comfy bed. I started feeding her out there today. My hope is that she will realize that she prefers being out there.
While we're on the subject of pigs, here's my latest job hunt story:
I interviewed as an on-call nanny for a potbellied pig named Phil. He's two years old, weighs 80 pounds (40 pounds more than he's supposed to weigh) and lives in a mansion in Portland. I am not joking. This is his house: http://www.maestromosaics.com/Maine/Basement.asp I thought there must be condos in this building, but no. It is one big residence. Phil has his own room -- the former butler's pantry. Check this link for a photo of a pig that looks like Phil: http://www.flickr.com/photos/wacko_sponky/3671432139/
Phil's owner warned me that I would have to work to gain Phil's trust, if not his affection. The biggest problem she has had in trying to find a sitter for him is that most people are afraid of him. I am not afraid of Phil, not even after he ramrodded me twice in the vicinity of my knees. I fed him three cookies and his owner and I chatted, but I guess I don't charge enough, because I haven't heard from her since, although she promised to call me the next day.
Whether or not I get the job, I am delighted that my line of work affords me entry into such fine homes. I'd never get in there otherwise!
Well, little Violet is turning into a bit of a porker. Rex is highly sensitive to her nocturnal grunting, and he jumps out of bed (or clambers up the ladder from his cellar) at all hours of the night to try to avert a pig-peeing incident. Whether or not he succeeds, he proceeds to mix up some pig formula and feed her. This happens almost exactly every two hours.
Violet probably doesn't need all these feedings, but it is just so darn fun to do it. She is so enthusiastic about her formula! Her little trotters scuffle on the linoleum as we hold her back, and she oinks loudly. The trick comes in letting her go at the precise moment where her forward thrust won't send her flying into the dish and splashing the contents all over the floor.
Dealing with the pig pee is not so much fun. So I'm kind of encouraging her to stay outdoors most of the time, where at least the pee goes on the porch and not on the living room floor. She hangs out in what we have taken to calling the "pig cave" under our funky peddler cart, where there's some hay that makes a comfy bed. I started feeding her out there today. My hope is that she will realize that she prefers being out there.
While we're on the subject of pigs, here's my latest job hunt story:
I interviewed as an on-call nanny for a potbellied pig named Phil. He's two years old, weighs 80 pounds (40 pounds more than he's supposed to weigh) and lives in a mansion in Portland. I am not joking. This is his house: http://www.maestromosaics.com/Maine/Basement.asp I thought there must be condos in this building, but no. It is one big residence. Phil has his own room -- the former butler's pantry. Check this link for a photo of a pig that looks like Phil: http://www.flickr.com/photos/wacko_sponky/3671432139/
Phil's owner warned me that I would have to work to gain Phil's trust, if not his affection. The biggest problem she has had in trying to find a sitter for him is that most people are afraid of him. I am not afraid of Phil, not even after he ramrodded me twice in the vicinity of my knees. I fed him three cookies and his owner and I chatted, but I guess I don't charge enough, because I haven't heard from her since, although she promised to call me the next day.
Whether or not I get the job, I am delighted that my line of work affords me entry into such fine homes. I'd never get in there otherwise!
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