Donuts for Lucy
Rick had been back from the States a week when our pet pig, Old Lady Lucy, got sick again. She had her time with him, her walks around the paddock and her belly rubs. Then she decided to go.
She lay down and stopped eating. When I syringed water into her mouth, she let it fall out the other side. I got her a new round of anti-inflammatories in a powder form, but I couldn’t get the drugs into her. She wouldn’t even eat the lovely, drug-infused jam sandwiches I made. She began whimpering in a new way.
After three days of this we decided to put her down. It was our first day back at work after the Christmas break – the first time in weeks that both of us were away from the property for the day.
I called Liz, the vet, and said, “Could you come after we get home from work tonight? I know it’s out of hours, but it would break my heart to not be there when Lucy goes.”
Liz, being a kind vet, said yes.
Date with Death
On the way home that evening, Rick and I stopped and bought a dozen mini donuts. We wanted to give Lucy a last meal we knew she’d love.
When we got home, we immediately went out to the hayshed to say our goodbyes before Liz arrived.
We saw Lucy in the hayshed and called out to her, but she didn’t answer with her usual grunted hello. She was silent. I stepped in the gate and walked over to her. I put my hand on her side. She was still warm, but the dear old pig was already dead.
When my grandmother was dying, she asked everyone to leave the room just before she passed away. It was as if having everyone there with her, loving her, was somehow keeping her in this world. She had to be alone to die.
Our olive grove at twilight
Maybe Rick and I, without knowing it, had been holding Lucy back the same way.
I said a small prayer over Lucy’s large, hairy body. I asked the pig god to take care of Lucy’s enthusiastic pig soul. Then I called Liz to tell her that she didn’t need to come anymore.
That’s when the real work began.
How to bury a pig
I have been raised in cotton wool. Other people have always taken care of the bodies of the people and animals I have loved. Doctors and vets and funeral directors. But true death is a physical thing. It involves moving and lifting and burying. It hurts your back as well as your heart.
The hole Rick and I dug was large and deep. A grown man could have laid down inside of it, if he curled up his legs.
We moved Lucy’s 150kg body in fits and starts, with two towels wrapped underneath her in a sling. We took five steps and rested, then five steps more.
I don’t know why we didn’t ask friends and neighbors for help. I suppose it was something Rick and I wanted to do together. A private, sacred act. The last thing we would ever do for our Lucy.
She started out being Rick’s pig. In the end, she was definitely ours.
We wanted to get her body into the hole with dignity, but we failed. We could only hold her at the edge and drop her in. I still feel bad about that. She landed with a tumble and thump, her feet sticking up into the air. It was horrible.
“We have to put her on her side,” I said. “We can’t leave her like that.”
I climbed down inside the grave. There wasn’t much room for my feet. The walls of the earth came to my waist. I tried to turn her, but I couldn’t. She was too heavy, too big. I gave her one last belly rub, down there with her in her grave, and then I climbed out.
Lucy 1998 - 2012
Rick and I stood with one foot on either side of the grave, reached in, grabbed her legs, and tried to turn her again. If it wasn’t so sad, it would have been funny. Two incompetent city boys trying to bury an enormous pig.
We stood and looked down at Lucy, now lying peacefully at the bottom of her grave.
Rick said, “Thank you, Lucy, for all of the joy you brought us.”
I opened the box of donuts and placed them in the grave with her, around her mouth.
“In heaven you’ll get donuts every day,” I said.
Then, reluctantly, as carefully as we possibly could, we shoveled the dirt down over her poor, sweet head.
__________
The Lucy stories
- Rick wants a pig
- Bringing home Old Lady Lucy
- Boytoy for Old Lady Lucy
- Is the Old Lady Pregnant?
- One sick pig
- Donuts every day
As soon as I saw “donuts everyday’ I thought you would be refering to the burnou zone out beyond you where the shredded dead tyre was the other day!
Oh how sad, but what a happy end to her life you gave her and such a tear jerking send off. Just love the donuts as a final parting gift – bitter sweet x
P.S. We’re driving over to Martinborough tomorrow for the long weekend & so looking forward to enjoying the beautiful countryside.
So sad.. So sad…Do you guys run an old age pet home ? ; old man henry, old lucy !!
Yes, it seems we do! I always say we should have a sign out front that says, “The Moon over Martinborough Twilight Home for Geriatric Farm Animals.”
Oh. I’m so so sorry that Lucy has passed. It’s horrible losing a much-loved pet. I’ve lost a couple myself. It does sound like she’s had the best life a pig could possibly have though. So like you, I’d like to think she’s now happily trotting away in piggy heaven and chomping on doughnuts! Hugs to both you. xo
So sorry to hear that Lucy has gone. You both did right by her <3 Definitely donuts everyday.
As I tweeted, just big hugs offered.
Lucy had a beautiful life full of love from the both of you.
I just don’t have any other words to do justice.
So sorry to hear about Lucy, but you have given her a lovely last few years of her life. I admire you both for burying Lucy, (with her donuts), it’s something I’ve never been able to do with any of my beloved animals.
I’m so sad but honestly, I felt Lucy was waiting for Rick to get home. She needed to see him one last time. For the last couple of days you and Ricky and Lucy have been on my mind. I think I knew. Goodbye Lucy. I’m glad we met.
Jared, this is such a moving post. I am not a sentimental person, and neither is my husband, and we both teared up as I read this aloud to him just now. It’s a serious tribute to the power of sharing your life with a creature who’s so unlike you, yet so intelligent, and who despite your differences seems to allow you in with such generosity to their creaturely life … but I found your clear-eyed description of the burial equally moving. This is it, isn’t it. Life and death, and the blunt, bodily fact of that transition from one to the other, and the struggle we have to comprehend it.
Loved it. And we’re sorry you lost Lucy. We will eat a donut for her some time.
Wonderfully put. I teared up too. Thanks.
Thanks Charlotte. And when you’re donut eating for Lucy, be sure you eat several. She ate a lot. Do it for Lucy. :-)
Awwww, Lucy. She was a lovely pig. I’m glad she ended up having a lovely last couple of years with you guys. xxxx
Oh no…. where there is life there is death and sounds to me that Lucy had a peaceful end with all the love in the world lavished on her. And donuts. What more could she want for. RIP Lucy.
Jared, what a tribute to Lucy, you, and Rick this post is. With Lucy’s pig spirit already departed and her landing in the grave the way she did, I’m reminded of one of the final lines in the movie Babe, “That’ll do.”
Lucy, Lucy Amen to you for bringing us a part of life we would never have shared without your presence. I too always thought Lucy was waiting for Rick to return to see him just a bit more, just one more time or two around the paddock. My heart is with you two. I agree, “That’ll do.”
So sad. Lucy was lucky to have known you both.
was moved by your story, and know what you mean. I am a vet and it is always a bit macabre after owners have left and you need to move the body of a dead animal. there is no easy way, but they are dead after all. thechookhouse.com
Aw, I’m so sorry to hear about your losing Lucy! What a moving tribute to her! I think about you two often and hope that you’re doing well.
Is it too soon to ask if you’re thinking about getting another sweet Kunekune?
Well, let’s just say that SOMEBODY in our house is already talking about getting another kunekune. And it’s not me. Actually, there has been talk about replacing Lucy with not one but TWO pigs. I, however, being the more reasonable one in our household of course, am not so sure about this idea.
Whether its a dog or a pig, the loss of a pet hurts. So sorry. You gave her a good life and did well by her, even after she passed on. Perhaps she’d wish you to continue having a kunekune on your farm? I know that my spaniel would want us to have another to love and be loved by.
So sorry to read about Lucy…
Oh my goodness this post made my cry! But what a wonderful life dear Lucy had! She was so lucky to have you both to care for her. Farewell Lucy.
Thanks so much everyone for all of your really kind comments. It’s nice to know that there are people out there sending thoughts and words our way. The night after we buried Lucy I found myself visiting her grave in the moonlight at 3am. It was very, very blue and very, very peaceful.
Lucy loved you both and you both gave her such a kind, fun, love and healthy food filled last couple of years of her life. Me (the pig whisperer) and The Wolf will miss her dearly. I managed to read your wonderful blog out loud but only just, as the lump in my throat and the hot little tears escaping from the sides of my eyes made it difficult. I so felt for you both and thought it completely brave of you to share the ungraceful bits of her burial with us. I too had to “go down the hole” and fix the wonderful Squiggles the pigs legs which when the digger placed her in the hole, didn’t go quite go as gracefully as planned. Looking forward to visiting her grave and “whispering” to her gentle spirit. x
Thanks Leelee.
Readers – Check out stories with Leelee the Martinborough Pig Whisperer here.
Sorry to hear about Lucy’s passing, hugs to you both.
Very bittersweet story, beautifully written. I did not know Lucy, but I know you loved her and made her time on earth a happy one. She was lucky to know you.
sorry to hear about Lucy xx
So very sorry to read this. Our animals are such an important part of our lives. They bring us joy, love, laughter and, yes, sadness too. Love to all at Moon.