Stories of the Puffy-Pigs! Part 3
I've been lazy and haven't uploaded any recent photos onto flickr. also I fixed my computer and now my flickr account is no longer auto-logged-in and I can't retrieve my password at the moment. argh. So just some old photos down memory lane.
found this pic of Minipuff when she was just about half a year old. Really not much difference after all these years
and this one of Cotton and Fuzz when they just got separated from their mother, probably less than a month old. They were a pair of troublemakers ;)
this lovely one of Puffy showing perfectly pink footpads, and some impressive baggage..
Snowy my little sheep <3
and Shylie
well I guess if I had so much hair on my face, I'd have to shake it out once in a while, too
Minipuff, grabbing Minipoopies. Yums!
and that Sorting Hat Ceremony that's been circulating around facebook. Ah, the good times.
found this pic of Minipuff when she was just about half a year old. Really not much difference after all these years
and this one of Cotton and Fuzz when they just got separated from their mother, probably less than a month old. They were a pair of troublemakers ;)
this lovely one of Puffy showing perfectly pink footpads, and some impressive baggage..
Snowy my little sheep <3
and Shylie
well I guess if I had so much hair on my face, I'd have to shake it out once in a while, too
Minipuff, grabbing Minipoopies. Yums!
and that Sorting Hat Ceremony that's been circulating around facebook. Ah, the good times.
Franklin had some sort of seizure this morning. I found him paralyzed and lying on his side, his hind legs stretched out, stiff and his eyes looked faded. There was still poo in his anus, and they were big healthy ones, too. His breathing was shallow and labored, but he wasn't gone just yet. I remember Shylie died on the taxi ride to the vet, and I felt awful afterwards having made her last moments so hassled, perhaps I should have just laid her to rest at home, quietly. I considered doing just that with Franklin, seeing he was pretty much gone,
but then he started kicking. I remember reading from a Peter Gurney book that sometimes when pigs are near their death they will suddenly kick vigorously, as if having one last run in life. I tried to syringe him critical care, but his mouth was also clenched closed, then he stretched despite he was on his side, and he tilted his head and tried to lap up the critical care that dribbled out of his mouth. So I knew he was still fighting, and that's really all the reason I need to fight with him.
Miraculously, he's made a slight recovery at the vet. His body temperature was very low, and they put him in an incubator with oxygen, gave him fluids (vet suspected some sort of organ failure, resulting in a sudden drop in blood glucose) they're doing xray and blood test for further tests, but before I left I checked on him and he was placed comfortable on fleece, upright, and he was munching hay.
Franklin, I hope you'll pull through this time. You are always so spirited, there is much more in life for you to live out.
(history: I adopted Franklin last summer, prior to that he was owned by a friend of a friend, he received decent care but was neglected in most other ways (a teenage boy was his owner) and the worst was that his nails were never cut, they were horrifically long and curled inwards, and that he'd never had vegetables his entire 2 years with the boy. So although ingrown nails could be fixed, I was always worried there was some underlying health problems due to deficiencies...he had a really thin frame, flappy ribcage, no muscle mass. but in all other respects he was very active and wasted no time coming out of his shell and is the most interactive pig I have. My dad says he's a great leader, now Buggy and Rue Bear all paddle up the grids with him whenever we walk into the room. His previous cage was just a small store bought cage, but since he's been with me I'm sure he's got all the proper diet and physical stimulation a pig needs. So...I hope he makes it.)
but then he started kicking. I remember reading from a Peter Gurney book that sometimes when pigs are near their death they will suddenly kick vigorously, as if having one last run in life. I tried to syringe him critical care, but his mouth was also clenched closed, then he stretched despite he was on his side, and he tilted his head and tried to lap up the critical care that dribbled out of his mouth. So I knew he was still fighting, and that's really all the reason I need to fight with him.
Miraculously, he's made a slight recovery at the vet. His body temperature was very low, and they put him in an incubator with oxygen, gave him fluids (vet suspected some sort of organ failure, resulting in a sudden drop in blood glucose) they're doing xray and blood test for further tests, but before I left I checked on him and he was placed comfortable on fleece, upright, and he was munching hay.
Franklin, I hope you'll pull through this time. You are always so spirited, there is much more in life for you to live out.
(history: I adopted Franklin last summer, prior to that he was owned by a friend of a friend, he received decent care but was neglected in most other ways (a teenage boy was his owner) and the worst was that his nails were never cut, they were horrifically long and curled inwards, and that he'd never had vegetables his entire 2 years with the boy. So although ingrown nails could be fixed, I was always worried there was some underlying health problems due to deficiencies...he had a really thin frame, flappy ribcage, no muscle mass. but in all other respects he was very active and wasted no time coming out of his shell and is the most interactive pig I have. My dad says he's a great leader, now Buggy and Rue Bear all paddle up the grids with him whenever we walk into the room. His previous cage was just a small store bought cage, but since he's been with me I'm sure he's got all the proper diet and physical stimulation a pig needs. So...I hope he makes it.)