PIG TALES

THERE’S A PIG IN MY TENT! DOTTY’S SLEEPING ARRANGEMENTS

By Rachael Adams

Uff, uff, UFF!.....UFF!!!! An onion-shaped nose is pushing itself frantically through my tent fabric. I need to act fast or she’ll demolish it. Heart pounding and eyes glued shut, I know it’s only 6 am. “Let me in!”- the birds are singing and Dot’s ready for action. Her morning greetings are hard-wired into my system by now. I unzip the door and collapse back onto the ground mat. “Not so fast!”, she says and shovels me into next week. I’d begged and prayed for this to happen. I well up. Again.

Dot and I are apart. I had to leave her for now because of the housing situation in Menorca. I visit her every six months, but during the previous two visits she had been too upset with me to relax and lie down. She hadn’t had her belly tickles and I feared she’d never snuggle up to me again. I was deeply distressed because she loves contact, and needs a cuddle just as much as I do. So, on the third visit since leaving her in 2021, I decided to take a tent and see what happened…

On that first morning in her field in Alaior, she was wary of the tent but came over for a sniff nonetheless. She finally lay down outside, close enough that I could scratch her chin from my sleeping bag. I was overjoyed. The very next day, however, she’d decided she wanted in!

I’ve barely opened the zip as she blasts through the door. She’s very excited and playful - she throws a plastic bag in the air and does a spin. To settle her down, I put my arm across her back and pull her in for our nap. Still rootling around my feet, she has her bum in my face. Due to all the fat underneath it, her skin feels lovely and cool. Finally satisfied with the new ridged tramlines she’s gouged out of my ground mat, and having pasted plenty of red soil liberally around my tent walls, she flops down and sighs. I curl around her like a grub in my sleeping bag. Bliss.

It’s not that surprising she loves the tent, because pigs really do like blankets. When we first got Dot as a piglet, we gave her a thick one with orange and red squares on it. And no matter how many beds she grew out of, it always went with her. At first, she slept in a wicker laundry basket and on the couch, then in a dog bed with a tent over it to give her some privacy. Finally, at about a year old, I built her a wooden house on the patio and have since extended it. Twice. In both length and height. “Have you tucked the pig up?” was the last thing we checked before bed.

Just as dogs turn in circles before lying down, Dot has her ritual of rootling up the rugs before she settles in front of the fire. This can take ages and become very annoyingespecially because she pulls the blanket off the couch, even if you’re wrapped in it yourself. In time we learnt that to short-circuit her pre-settling behaviour we had to throw her blanket over her (and retrieve it from down the garden at a later stage).

Not only does she love blankets, but building nests too, particularly when the weather turns. I discovered her first messy nest one morning when I couldn’t open the patio shutter. After a good heave, I discovered what was blocking it - a foam mattress, and a mountain of green stuff poking out of her house. Piggy fast asleep atop it. Bemused, I followed the trail of papyrus stalks to the pond, where I found tiny piles of munched-up chives. From there the muddy stream of destruction led me past the remnants of a hibiscus bush, broken twigs hanging at bent angles, to what was once a stand of clivia - now as obliterated as a clear-cut forest.

Sometimes she makes nests inside the house, which is worse. It takes her a whole afternoon to gather what she needs from the bathroom and kitchen: bathmats, doorstoppers, the brush and dustpan, and the dog’s lead off the hanger. I watch enthralled as she pauses with one trotter mid-air. She’s deliberating whether to yank my coat off the back of the chair. BANG! - goes the chair across the room. Still not content, she does multiple trips to my bedroom for trainers, clothes, my diary and books, and ruffles it all onto a pile in the corner.

Back on our camping expedition, she’s retired to her house for the night. I tuck her up in her orange-squares blanket, taking a few minutes to lie my head on her cheek as she snores her piggy snoozy noises. Night night. I well up again as I make my way down her field to my filthy tent.

See you next time my pig.