On a sunny afternoon in early June, I was feeding our pet kunekune pigs when I thought I saw something odd about our pig Kowhai. It looked as though there might be a bit of swelling around the left side of his mouth.
Kowhai is a big, golden brown boar with a lot of flesh around his cheeks and a pair of kunekune ‘tassels’ hanging down under his chin. Boars also have tusks which push back folds of skin, and Kowhai’s tusks were overdue for a trim. It was hard to tell if his mouth was swollen or not. Maybe, I thought, it was nothing.
He’s been with us for 9 years and during that time I’d seen him change quite a bit. He arrived as a big, swaggering young boar. Now, at 15 years old, he’s truly an old man.
In his time here, he’s outlived two girlfriends (Old Lady Lucy and Mrs. D), enjoyed long days grazing on green grass, and spent countless afternoons foraging for wild watercress at the edge of the olive grove.
In his twilight years he’s settled into an easy friendship with Dougal, our other kunekune, who is lovable but slightly dopey. While Kowhai is strong and mellow, Dougal is a big crybaby. In spite of their differences, they’ve become constant companions. They often hang out side by side in a way that never happened when Kowhai had a girlfriend around.
Watching carefully
Now I started checking Kowhai’s mouth carefully. Our other kunekune, Mrs. D, died of bone cancer of the jaw in 2018. So I was nervous. Surely this couldn’t be happening again. I was probably being paranoid.
If I’m honest, Kowhai has long been my favorite pet pig. He’s very friendly. He enjoys a strong rub on the side, and if you offer this, he’ll lean into you and make a special grunt which clearly means, “Please, don’t stop.” He’s a sizable pig at around 100 kg (220 pounds), so when he leans into you, brace yourself.
Sometimes when you pet him his rear leg will do that thing dogs do, kicking uncontrollably with wild enthusiasm.
Trouble eating
Last weekend, when I was feeding Kowhai and Dougal I noticed that something clearly wasn’t right. Kowhai was having trouble eating. He’s always had a terrible underbite which causes him problems grazing, but he was struggling more than usual. I went over to inspect his mouth and was horrified by what I saw.
The swelling, which had up until then had been extremely subtle, had ballooned. He looked up at me and opened his mouth. This is his way of begging. We joke with friends that he’s like a slot machine with a sign that says, “insert food here.”
I reached in his bowl, squished together some of his pig feed into a ball in my hand, and dropped it in his mouth. He chewed gratefully. I admit that I fed him nearly his entire meal like this.
Frankly his mouth is a bit imposing with gnarled teeth and big tusks, but he was as gentle as a lamb as I dropped food in. My fingers brushed against his bottom teeth.
Veterinary help
I contacted our friend Naya right away and sent her a picture. Naya is a vet. She and her partner Jeremy at Longbush Pork gifted us these wonderful pigs years ago.
Naya said the swelling could be a very infected tooth at best or a tumor at worst. Hopefully a course of antibiotics was all that was needed. She jumped into action and arranged a visit from a vet named Sara in nearby Carterton.
The problem was that, after all these weeks at home during the COVID-19 quarantine, CJ and I were supposed to be back in the office in Wellington on the day Sara was coming. We’ve had vets visit when we’re not here before, so we weren’t too worried.
Then Naya told me, “You should be there in case she finds something that may mean putting him down.”
Putting him down? Surely that wasn’t going to happen.
CJ and I looked at our work schedules. It was easier for CJ to be here that day. I went into the office as planned.
Meeting from hell
So it was that on a Wednesday morning I was sitting in a grey meeting room in downtown Wellington when I received a series of texts from CJ.
The first text said: “May just be an abscess.”
That made me incredibly happy. Although it meant an infection with pus, it could be cleared up with antibiotics. I focused on the meeting.
Then CJ sent another text. “Wait maybe not good.”
My heart sank. I tried to pay attention to my co-workers, but then CJ sent a text that made me excuse myself. All it said was: “I’m sorry.”
I left the meeting room, walked out of the building, and called CJ. He told me what happened.
When Sara first arrived, she had thought it was nothing serious. Then she sedated Kowhai and inspected his mouth. Like a scene out of a nightmare, bits of tooth and jaw broke off in her hand. This was the same thing that had happened to our dear kunekune, Mrs D.
CJ and I now know that lesions and tumors of the jaw are relatively common in older kunekune pigs.
Of course Sara had to put Kowhai down immediately. In fact, she was already injecting something into his jugular as I was on the phone to CJ. I said, “You go be with Kowhai,” and I hung up the phone. I walked to the waterfront.
Coming home
There are very practical concerns that occur on a small hobby farm when a 100 kg pig dies. You have to get the body in the ground within 24 hours, or you have a real problem on your hands.
Suddenly it was clear where I needed to be.
I arranged to take leave the following morning, and I got on the train to Martinborough. As soon as I arrived home, I went out to look at Kowhai. His body was in the hay shed. He looked like he was sleeping. I gave his cold body a long, gentle pat, and I said goodbye.
We started digging his grave that evening, and we worked until the light faded. Dougal was wandering the paddock, no doubt confused by the disappearance of his friend. He eventually came over to where we were digging, and he lay down in the grass and began to snore.
Before CJ and I went into the house, we woke up Dougal and walked with him to his little pig house to make sure he went to bed.
Finishing the grave
The next morning, we got up early to continue digging. You have to make a big hole to bury a pig that size. I stopped by the hayshed to check on Kowhai’s body. His belly was already distended, and blood and other things had started pushing out of his nose and mouth.
We went to work. It was a cold, wet, rainy morning. Dougal was still sleeping in his pig house. The light everywhere seemed blue. We dug for a long time. When the hole was deep enough, we tried to carry Kowhai over to it. His skin was loose. Rigor mortis had set in. It was awkward. We had to drag him.
Our pets teach us many things–like being fully present, not worrying, making time to relax, plus things like responsibility, respect, compassion, and patience.
One particularly important thing they teach is how precious and fleeting life is. It’s an incredible lesson. And nothing is as good for learning that than digging a big hole in the rain to bury someone you love.
This may sound maudlin, but I’m grateful for that reminder from Kowhai. It’s like his last act was to teach us, to remind us of this Most Important Thing. Our bodies will rot. The bodies of those we love will rot. We will all pass away. That doesn’t mean we should be sad. Instead, we would be absolute fools if we did not cherish every moment we have together here.
The world is crazy right now, but I’m reminded of that line from Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata: “With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.”
The next day I went out and bought a kowhai tree. This is the tree our charming, mellow pig was named after. They’re a beautiful New Zealand native, and they have golden yellow flowers in spring. I planted that tree over Kowhai’s grave. Dougal was close by, sniffing everything out. The tree is tiny, just barely up to my thigh and protected now by green netting. It will become an 8 meter tall tree one day.
And every time those fleeting kowhai blossoms come, we’ll be reminded of our dear pig, and all those important lessons he taught us.
_____
Have you lost a dear pet? Tell me about it in the comments below.
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Hi Jared and CJ. So sorry you lost Kowhai, He sounded a lovely pet.
You wrote such a lovely story of him, I had tears in my eyes, but reading the saying from Max Ehrmanns expresses it all.
Kind regards Jill
Thank you Jill. Yes, that poem is great.
So sorry but as with our human kith & kin great pain follows great love & our pets are all love. What a wonderful life you two are living – so rich so full all the best to you x
Yes pain and love seemed tied!
Sorry for your loss guys, many fond memories though. yes am on a lifestyle block too lost many treasured pets over the years. loved reading your book and blogs. next part is coming for a drive that way. happy writings be safe.
Oh, people who live on lifestyle blocks are a special breed. There must be something wrong with us. 🙂
Oh no Jared and CJ – how distressing for you, so sad to hear of the loss of your beloved Kowhai. You’re absolutely right about the lessons your pets teach you and the responsibility to ensure they are not in distress! Our dog Jerry had a massive wound on him which promptly got stapled and is looking much better – I have been a mother hen big time and he won’t leave my side (he also rocks my t-shirt) everything else paled in significance to ensuring he had what he needed and had the best chance of success for a speedy recovery!!
Oh no! Hope Jerry recovers quickly. He’s lucky to have you!
Beautiful story, Jared! There is nothing like the love of a pet!
Thank you!
I have had and loved cats all my life but when my Plato died in 2011, he took a piece of me with him. I’ve never really gotten over that, despite the incredible life changes since then. But I love that we have all found such profundity in Desiderata. I have it on my wall and read a line or two every day. Like my love for Plato, it never gets old, never loses its strength. Thanks for reminding me of all of that.
Sorry to hear about Plato. It’s funny how some pets just hurt more than others when they go. And yes, I think Ehrmann’s was channelling some sort of ancient muse when he wrote that poem
Jared, I’m so sorry. He sounds such a wonderful and idiosyncratic pet. And yes, dogs all my life which I have ultimately had to say goodbye to, and two horses. Horses graves are also an issue.
But these animal companions are such a lesson in love – the flip side of course is pain but what a life we’ve usually had together with loads of love and laugh. I’d do it again and again for that companionship.
Take care and may all on the farm move forward softly…
Oh, horses are another thing altogether! We had to bury a friend’s horse on our farm. For that you need more than a shovel! Yes, the joy animals bring certainly outweighs the sadness when they go.
Hi Jared,
Sorry to hear about your piggy. It’s so painful to lose an animal you love, I can really commiserate. We lost a wee miniature fox terrier, 15 years old. She was a cranky, difficult pet, but she had her moments. I miss her so much.
Hugs, Meg
Funny how we can miss pets even when they’re cranky! 🙂
I remember Kowhai when reading “Moon Over Martinborough” so that is a long time ago. I love pigs too. RIP and take care in this beautiful but crazy world, Jared. Mary Margaret
Thanks Mary. You take care too. And thanks for following along with our journey all this time.
So sorry for your loss, Jared & CJ. The loss of a pet can be devastating. These days it’s difficult to see the beauty in our world. The lessons you’ve taken from Kowhai are important.
Yes, sometimes it’s overwhelming.
As I sit here in Canada reading your lovely, but heart wrenching, story of Kowhai, it is Father’s Day. Seems so fitting as you both are wonderful ‘fathers’ to all your animals. Every person who has experienced the love of a pet knows the pure joy that love brings and, sadly, the anguish and heartbreak when we have to bid farewell.
I remember watching my own father many, many years ago telling the story when he had to put down his very sick and aged horse. It was the first time in my life I had seen my ‘tough as nails’ father in tears.
May your charming memories of Kowhai help you through this time.
You’re fortunate to have had a father who was unafraid to cry, even if infrequently. Take care!
We’ve lost a number of dogs, cats, and chickens in our years on the farm, but the loss of our Pickles Marie Tinydog was the hardest. She was ill when she came to us, and lived only 7 months before carcinoma got her…but in those months, that dog LIVED. Theoretically, PMT was my dog, but in reality, she was her own dog from start to finish.
The “dwarf” plum tree we planted on her grave was barely shoulder-high in 2012, and is taller than the barn now. Like PMT herself, the tree took our assumptions under advisement, and quietly went on to do the stuff it wants to do.
Sorry to hear about your loss. Pickles Marie Tinydog… what a name! ???? I love this story.
So sorry lost pet couldnt help but cry when read it have had pets that died over yrs lost is awful
Thank you, Maree. All the best.
Hey Jared, beautiful story. Sorry for your loss. It is hard losing a four-legged family member. I have a small pet cemetery here in the woods for all the animals who have been a part of our lives. Some were strays that were left in the woods and only lasted a few days some were with us for 14+ years. Each taught me compassion and how to provide unconditional love. We all need to take our cue from them especially in this time of turmoil.
Thank you for your comment. So kind of you to take in strays and care for them. I’m sure your pet cemetery in the woods is a special place.
my sympathy to you both,in the same boat, loved cats,dogs,goats,lamb pie,old and fat,was best friend of our wolf hound type dog,followed him everywhere,i have wondered if anyone dug up my yard all the different animals buried there,even a family of wild ducks who were killed by my gate by a car when they were going back to nest for the night,memories last forever as does the love they brought with them,thinking of you both
Yes, the memories do last forever. I’ve often wondered the same if anyone goes digging around our pig cemetery!
Love reading your blogs and although this was a sad story about Kowhai who has been a great friend to you both it’s nice to read that you are focusing on what he gave you in his lifetime. Take care look forward to your next blog
Thank you, Liz. All the best to you.
Hi Jared
Condolences to you and CJ.
What a wonderful life Kowhai shared with you both. Lucky pig, lucky you.
Crybaby Dougal will need a new best friend. I shall watch this space for an update.
A Kowhai tree, perfect, the Tuis will sing their song of praise in remembrance come flowering time as they love the nectar from the Kowhai flowers.
KIA Kaha
Helen
We’ve considered a new friend for Dougal. Surprisingly, however, he’s doing very well. Kowhai was a bit bossy to him, pushing Dougal out of the way when food was on offer, and getting in the middle of it when anyone pet Dougal (jealous, of course). Dougal seems to be flourishing without Kowhai!
Kowhai was a very lucky pig and you obviously gave him as much love as he gave you. Losing a dear friend is never easy, and I shed tears as I read your story. Losing dear friends leaves a hole in the heart which we gradually learn to live around, while never forgetting the lost loved one. And it never gets easier, as I told someone recently who had just lost a beloved dog, but it’s so worth the pain to have loved and been loved, whether by a person, a canary or a pig. I hope Dougal finds a new bestie soon.
Thanks, Nola. Canaries are certainly easier to bury, however. 🙂
I love hearing from you but sad about your sweet Kowhai. Just had the first
anniversary of losing my Bebe cat and next week is the second anniversary of losing my Trey dog – sure leaves a hole in our hearts but we helped them to live their best lives. ????
Eve
Sorry for your losses, Eve. So thoughtful of you to remember their anniversaries. They were clearly loved.