Interruption for veterinary emergency

Imagine that--I have not had a health emergency since Thursday nite. Or rather, I probably have had one all weekend, but I did not know it, since I was not here.

When we pulled out of the drive on Friday, this was the scene I saw--Boce happily munching on some corn on the cob, which made him very happy. This is what happy Boce looks like
When Rita came down Sunday, she mentioned that when she came to feed the dogs Saturday nite, that Boce had wandered off without eating, and Tequila ate his food. I did not think much of it, even though when a pig is not eating, you should pay attention.

When we got home tonight, it was obvious he was sick. He moved slowly, kept stopping to lay down and refused an apple. I even cut the damn thing up for him. Then I gave him piggy food, and some cold fresh water--I got him to take a sip or two of that but not much. I called Rita and she said he was the same way Sunday nite--would not come out of his house to greet her, which is very very strange.


This is probably what it looked like, although this was just a regular morning with him last week. I spent a couple of hours trying to bribe him tonight to no avail. I would come in a research as I could not reach my vet, and tried to figure out what might be wrong and what I might be able to do about it on my own. oy

Finally, Barry and I got him in the house, thinking surely it would help to get him out of the heat, and also I could watch him better without pitching over my own self.

I learned that in addition to getting fluids in him, I needed first to take his temperature.

Really? Really? I needed to take the pig's temperature? How did this happen to me?
This was not what was supposed to be my life, I promise you. I had already come to terms with the strange things I do that are not consistent with what I thought I would do with my time as an adult, but it never once occur to me that I would EVER be sticking anything up a pig's ass. That really never crossed my mind.

But I did it. And good thing, as turns out Boce is a sick little monkey--he had a 106 degree fever. It should be 98 to 101 degrees. I followed the instructions on the internet about making him better, but not killing him (which means penicillin and a touch of banamine), and sat around waiting to take his temperature again.

The next time I checked it, it was down to 103.7. Still too high. But I left him a handful of piggy food and he ATE IT! That is a good sign. I gave him another and left him alone for three hours other than going in to check on him. About half the time, he would be laying down--once he was eating the bath mat, and once he was putting his blanket behind the toilet--and half the time he was up. He finished the second handful of food but has not done anything since then with the third handful--he may be taking little sips of water. We had syringed some into him earlier, along with several other attempts but you just cannot make a pig do things that are in his best interest if he does not want to.

At last check, his temp had come down to 103.2 degrees---and I have to crash so I can get up to talk to or see the vet at 7 am. Can you imagine what that is going to be like? Me trying to get this fat bastard in the back of the Highlander and driving my pig through town? I realize it made sense when he was a tiny thing, but he is a big ol boy now----but I will do it. After all, once you have stuck a thermometer up your pig's ass, what is a little chauferring?