The last picture of Tom - a few days after this photo was taken he passed away
Sad events have struck us at Cosy Cottage. First we bade farewell to Mabel, and a fortnight later Tom left us.
Tom and Tim
Tom was an amiable boar, aged between five and six. A handsome boy, he had black tufty hair with a streak of white and another of red. Where his first home was I do not know but the first time I saw him was in the adoption section at Pets at Home in 2019. There he lived with his brother (I have no idea whether biological or adoptive) Tim. I was looking for a suitable companion for my elderly widower Blaze and there was the choice of Tim and Tom and two girls. Not having the room for multiple piglets, Tim and Tom were chosen and came home.
Unfortunately they were not the most suitable of friends for Blaze. Neither sweet babies or sensible adults, the new boys were energetic teens. Although there was a long 'get to know you' process and the three had moved into a big palace, Tim had become possessive of Blaze and Tom kept trying to hump him. It wasn't going to work as the energies were too different so I separated Blaze from the youngsters. Blaze then moved back to his old cottage for a peaceful retirement.
After this, Tim and Tom had a stormy time where Tom seemed nervous of his more confident brother who dominated the floor of the cage while Tom lurked upstairs in the attic. I wondered if I would have to separate them too. Thankfully the teenage hormones eased off and the two boys started to bond again.
Tom was a sweet pig. Of the two, he was more laidback. But when it came to treats, the pair had their routine worked out between them. Tim would whistle, Tom would bite the bars and call for attention that way. Needless to say, it worked. Mostly it was various types of lettuce (I never realised how many there were before) but when it was a special treat like pepper, basil or carrot, Tom would make a little purring noise like a thank you and hide in his wooden house with it. Even when he became a widower and lived by himself, he would still hide. He hadn't trusted Tim to steal his treasures, he didn't trust us.
Like Tim, Tom wasn't much of an explorer and on outings he would sit under the coffee table. Eventually he would then run to the cage wanting to go back home.
When it was sunny and warm, he would help with mowing the lawn. Along with Tim, he enjoyed the taste of grass, so proved an excellent gardener.
Tom had his health issues over the years. In 2021, he started having eye problems. I wondered if it was a piece of hay that had poked his eye but the vet thought it a possible tumour and suggested an operation to remove his eye. Thankfully there was medication (not sure why that wasn't the vet's first choice?!) that helped and Tom's eye not only started to look better but he was able to see out of it. This was unexpected because of the vet's gloomy prognosis.
When Tom lost his companion Tim last year, after years of living together, there was the dilemma of whether to look for another friend. As I found, introducing new boars to each other is not without its difficulties and sometimes it may not work. So I kept a close eye on Tom. If he went off his food, seemed depressed or lethargic, I would look for another rescue pig. If he was otherwise happy, maybe he would be content with a human companion (me) instead.
I'm sure Tom missed Tim, but he seemed content and, as he was in the living room, not closed away in a room isolated from everyone, he often saw me. This was an opportunity for him to go to the bars and request (demand) treats. Even when his food bowl was full, and there was plenty of hay, he would play the 'I'm famished' card.
He may have got rather spoilt (and chunky). But he was also a patient, calm pig, tolerating his nails being cut and any other medical procedures he needed.
Tom gets weighed
I believe he recognised humans. He ignored my dad (who would give more attention to the chickens), go to the bars and rattle them when he saw my mum (who spoilt him with treats), went over to Simon when he brought over basil. When he saw me he would come over to see if I had anything tasty and back away if I hadn't. He was happy enough to sit with me, being petted, but never liked being picked up. At the sight of an empty hand hovering above, he would hide in his house. He was the tamest pig I've ever cared for but the genetic fear of being picked up by a bird of prey will always be there for many cavies.
One morning I put some slices of carrot in his food bowl but he stayed in his igloo. He was not his usual self, being lethargic and not eating. I decided that I would call the vet if he didn't improve in a few hours. That afternoon I found him lying motionless in his wooden house. He had made his way over the Rainbow Bridge, where, I suspect, Tim would have been waiting for him.
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