Goodbye

Mr Roosevelt
Text Box: Mr Roosevelt was born in Oct of 1990 . He and his brother E.T, a sister, Penny and mother, Hassie, were part of my original group of 6 pigs. Penny died in 1999, Hassie died last year. It is one of the great joys of being a sanctuary to be able to keep a family together for its lifetime. And at the same time such sadness, to lose old and dear friends. From the first days of his life Roosevelt was as wild as a piglet born under cover of the rainforest, and he remained an untouchable, wary spirit until the day before he died. In 1995 we were living in Georgia when a hurricane struck, bringing violent winds and torrential rains. At 4 AM a tree fell on the house and as the storm raged I realized I had to move the group of pigs in the nearest barn to higher ground. I can still remember Roosevelt’s deep bassoon voice telling me how frightened he was as he and his family came out into the storm and across a hastily constructed plank bridge to the relative safety of a bigger barn across the stream. With only a lantern to light their way in the downpour and screaming wind, they followed me to safety. I think I won some trust from him that night. But vaccinating and any kind of confinement was always terrifying to him. Last year he had a jowl abscess and had to go to the vet and be anesthetized and lanced. It failed to drain properly and a second capture and draining (this time at home ) had to be done. It was a hard time for this boy. A few weeks ago Roosevelt showed some signs of slowing down. He continued to get up every morning and go to the fields but his appetite waned . One night he let me pet him as I offered him some special snacks and cranberry juice. And he began to talk. As I sat and listened he talked a blue streak. He looked up at me from time to time to be sure I was paying attention and he talked. I have seen others do this when they know its time. I knew then he was dying, though he did not appear ill. In the night he passed away. I don’t know what the sudden desire to talk is but I have seen many who had cancer or other slow acting diseases do the same. It is one of those special pig communications with their friends. They will talk to each other and to me at great length as though to be sure I remember all the events of their lives. I will remember, Mr Roosevelt.