When I made a Facebook ad for my blog, Chiere had made a comment about wanting to hear more stories about my feral pig Daisy. I am sad to say there is only one more story to tell about Daisy. That story is my story of losing her.

I hope you forgive me, but it’s been 2 years, this December will make 3, that my girl crossed the Rainbow Bridge, and the way she crossed it will haunt me, hurt me, forever.

I had said one of my blogs needed an update and here it is… Daisy, my big, beautiful, girl has passed. My close friends, and my Facebook friends at the time, read of her passing just over a year ago. (Please keep in mind that this blog’s draft was written two years ago.)

She passed, quite frankly, because her hips couldn’t take the weight she had grown to be. I saw her troubles beginning, and I did try to put her on a diet. However, being free ranging, she was very adept at getting what she always wanted, which was something tasty in her mouth.

As her mobility problems grew more serious, she moved less and less. Finally, the day came when she went under the house and stayed. Being moist dirt, she could drag herself about without injury to her belly. That’s when I began slithering under the house to take her her meals.

This routine was no answer for her. Through the floor of the house, we could hear her sounds of pain as she moved herself about.

The Vets I spoke to had no answers. Operate on a pig, a feral one at that, no. There still isn’t even a procedure for what was wrong with her. Her hips had simply given out.

I was the only one who had the courage to go under the house to her. Everyone else was concerned about aggravating her and her pain. By this point, her discomfort was obviously still growing, and I was sharing with her the medication my pain specialist had prescribed for me. The sweetness of her sighs as she’d gently go to sleep never failed to break my heart.

After weeks of waiting, and hoping, for her to gain strength, the decision was made to put her down. But…how to bury a pig that weighed well over 200 pounds? How to even get her out from under the house to start?

The most difficult decision of all was made. Daisy, light of my heart, would be butchered, and she would be shared by many folks out here where we live in this rural area.

We contacted a friend who knew what to do. He agreed to our proposal as long as I wasn’t home when he arrived to do the deed.

The morning of the chosen day, I crawled under the house to give her what would be her last meal. I made sure it was an extra tasty one. Then, for the first time, I gave her a whole pain pill with a whole muscle relaxer. It was the only thing I could do for her to mitigate her fear of strangers. As the pills took effect, she leaned over and gently touched my forehead with her nose. As she pulled back and looked me in the eyes, I’d swear she was smiling. I think she knew her end was near, and she wanted me to know she was ready. I darn well wasn’t, but it was past time to let her go. I kissed her cheek and left.

When Mom and I returned, there was no sign a death had occurred.  Daisy was simply gone.

My dad told me our friend had brought a helper who crawled under the house. Daisy, not liking strangers, had lazily dragged herself out into the open. Once out, she’d been presented a bucket of fresh star fruit. She had happily put her face into the fruit, and the end came. My baby girl had known no fear. She had a face full of fresh fruit and no fear, I can live with that. They loaded her on a trailer, and they took her away. That’s a bit harder to deal with.

I guess the epilogue to this would be that our friend and his wife refused to speak to me about it for a few weeks. It was plain,no matter how many times I brought up the subject, that they didn’t think I was really ready to talk about it without breaking down into tears, and they didn’t want that for me.

As it happened, one Sunday I attended dinner with our friends. While sitting at the table, talking in general, another one of our friends spoke to me about Daisy. He said he knew I had loved her, and I probably still missed her. He said he was sorry for my loss, but he wanted me to know that he was grateful to us. He’s on disability, and that had been a hard month. Without Daisy, he’d have gone hungry. He said he really hated getting food that way, so he felt he had to let me know how he’d been helped by Daisy and me.

A laughing young man at the  suddenly became very serious. He looked at me and asked, “That was you?” Not trusting my voice, I simply nodded. He continued, “In that case, I owe you a huge thanks, too. I’d have flat gone hungry for a few days, and I know of a family with kids that would have gone hungry, too!”

I smiled. I thanked them for their kind words, trying not to cry.

When I got home, I went into my room, and I cried for awhile, laughed for awhile, thinking of her antics.

Our friend presents himself as being very gruff, but he truly is a kind man. Because he had gotten a boar and a sow for breeding, he surprised himself by becoming very attached to them. For that reason, he kept thinking about me and Daisy. A few months later, when someone offered him a free mini piglet, he brought her straight to me.

I’d like you to meet Pinky. She’s got absolutely the pinkest ears you ever saw and even pinker when they get sunburned!

Goodbye Daisy. I’ll Always Love You.

Meet Pinky.