So, grown up LiLou's brain has implanted Queen T as the TOP PIG, the giant person who feeds her. Even though she weighs as much as Mama, she is cowed into submission by a stern LiLou. No. Not a shouted NO, because LiLou would think Mama was squealing right back at her. It's the way she speaks to her human children - equal parts love and do not do that.
It's hard work being a piggie Mama, and that's part of the charm. Taking her responsibilities seriously, LiLou's hoof-icures were always a mainstay.
| A grape from Jane Goodall's fingers. |
She learned to play the (mini)piano, dunk on a (mini)basketball hoop, and do a lovely pirouette. She had a wide array of colorful ribbons to adorn her seasonally appropriate harnesses for her daily walks. She wasn't an enthusiastic walker unless their route took her toward the fancy hotel 2 blocks away.
While being admired at a charity event, LiLou smelled then snarfed their cookies. Ever after, no matter Queen T's intentions, LiLou was determined, trotting up to the front door of that hotel, a girl with a goal.
C'mon, she's a pig. It's food.
She's been getting old. Pigs get arthritis, and tummy troubles, and they puke. At a certain point, quality of life decisions had to be made.
She's crossing the Rainbow Bridge today, at home, surrounded by love andd quality care.
Rest in peace, Lilou. You were the best grandpig I ever had.


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I KNOW THE FONT IS TOO SMALL......