I came to the outer barn for chores only to hear the usual snoring of Rosie. But it was coming from an odd position. I looked down to see her nose at the bottom of the barn siding, snorting away.
Rosie takes her sleep seriously and since she is nine, an advanced age in pigdom, she is entitled to sleep as much as she likes.
I have been spraying the bathing beauty in her newly acquired sunscreen-thanks to readers and followers for sending me some. And they were good enough to send exactly the kind Rosie, and I, prefer-the spray on kind. Miss Pig does much better with a quick spray. In the old days I used to spend enormous amounts of energy mixing Destin with oil to rub it on her most sensitive areas. Maybe the humidity here in Maine versus the constant arid dryness of Oregon summers is helping her skin. I think it is. I also noted she did not bolt all her hair like she used to and I'm not sure why.
Anyway, as Rosie ages, I cherish each morning I hear her snores. Nine is getting up there for a potbellied and I know she won't last forever. For all her drama, she is one amazing pig and has led quite the life having once lived in her own bedroom in a house, to a barn with a crippled goat, to a farm full of Misfits and then traveling five days to get to Maine-where she now seems happier than ever.
Long live Th-World's-Grumpiest-But-I'm-Fine-As-I-Am- Pig...a hell of a porcine.
{Did you hear the big news? Apifera is becoming a 501c!}
