"Good morning, Rosie!" I said, in the same sing-song tone my mother used to get me up as a little girl-which now I would love to hear every morning, but in the cold of a Minnesota winter always in the dark it was the gut wrenching reality I had to get up out of my comfortable dream spot.
The expression on Rosie's face as she lay there, awakened by my footsteps, was priceless.
No matter how grumpy she can be, this past year has been my favorite of our years together, including having her on the six day journey east. I truly believe that somehow, something clicked in that pig's mind as we landed on new soil. I don't know why. Because even though she is still vocally grumpy most of the time, and is needier than ever, she has softened to me in some ways-although a visitor might not notice it. Yesterday I was out near the barn and heard her carrying on in true Rosie grumpiness-loud squeals and hrumpfs and such-and I went to see if she was okay. She was laying down but was frustrated because she couldn't get the flies off of her-due to her more arthritic body. She hates to be sprayed, but I coated her in fly spray, then I sang my old Rosie song to her...which I was pleased to see still gave her some kind of calming, and her groans of despair ceased.
What a pig.
