There's just something prosaic about having a pig wandering about

Mornings at the Tryst Inn

Getting to Know You (Spike addition)

Spike seems to be having the time of his life and he's working out his own routine. Most of which seems to revolve around napping and exploring. The latter of which includes knocking over anything that doesn't outweigh him or that isn't set down in concrete. Everything else is up for grabs. And nudges.

I've been reading with alarm that potbelly pigs have an amazing way of fitting into anything their noses can get into, in fact they use their noses as a pry bar. And Gods oh mighty, is THAT an effective tool. Spike has decided that hanging out in the old rabbit hutch/chicken coop is a mighty fine way to spend some time near his chickens. Did I mention he adores the chickens? Yes, indeed. Not only does he get to share in the cracked corn every morning when I spread it about for the poultry, but the overhang of their pen makes for a great place to nap protected from the rain or sunshine.

A very self-satisfied piggy:



Look, Ma, a chin rest:



My attempt to interview Spike ended when he decided to eat my shoes. Or try to anyway, there's something delicious about shoes to a pig: