Hedgie Sure Loves Dog Meat

After adding a new task to my morning routine – replenishing the hedgehog’s bowls with the cat and dog’s food and cleaning up his poo I left Hedgie alone for the day.

When I returned I checked to see if he was still alive. He was burrowed deeply inside his blankets so when I gently moved them to look at him I received an angry snort. Well, at least he was living. Most of the dog meat was gone and he had a go at nibbling on a plum.

That day I purchased a water bottle, like birds and guinea pigs use, a little dish for some pet milk and his own supply of food. Spoiled hedgehog. I then set about making holes in the plastic tub with a screw to hang the bottle, under the curious watch of the dog and cat.

The dog (Tobias) and cat (William) are not really interested in Hedgie, more jealous. Tobias sat on my lap and kept trying to “kiss” me while I struggled to make the holes in the tub. I proudly hung the bottle, and Hedgie’s house was complete. When he didn’t seem to know what to do with the bottle I looked online to see how to train him. I read that they can damage hedgehog teeth and trap tongues. Whoops. That was the end of that.

Hedgie spent the rest of the evening eating the dog meat. He LOVES it, and should be 700 grams in no time if he keeps it up. He was not so successful in drinking his milk (don’t worry I bought the special lactose free pet stuff), it went up his little nose causing him to sneeze it out. I am not sure about his policy of not moving away from his food to do his business. He just stands with his face still in the food and lets rip.

Tomorrow I plan on attempting to create some kind of outdoors enclosure for him so he can get out of the plastic tub. Hedgehog shantytown coming to a garden near you.

(Hedgehog watch day two)


Perilous Sunday

Currently I am monitoring a health situation – potential pneumonia. While out for Sunday lunch with Mr Pigalina, I chuckled with a mouthful of food and my mirth was soon over. I felt a pea shoot and wriggle down my windpipe. I coughed and choked, tried to wash the pea away, and disturbed the whole restaurant. Mr Pigalina asked if I was ok, I replied in a wheeze with tears in my eyes “No! I inhaled a pea!”
The trauma soon passed to be replaced by paranoia – Google told me that food in the lungs could lead to aspiration pneumonia.
Later, at home, having recovered from that incident I set about sorting out the spare room. I got a bit distracted by an episode of Misfits and sat down to watch – leaning against a plastic storage cube. My elbows slipped easily inside, and then my shoulders, it was quite a comfortable spot. But then I tried to stand up. I was stuck, it hurt my neck as I tried to break free. I hollered for Mr Pigalina who dutifully trotted through to see what the problem was. He took some photos before freeing me. Here is one – my face has been trimmed out as it is reminiscent of a baby photo that adorned my patents wall where I am laughing so hard I look like I am crying. I am an ugly crier.

December has Arrived

You would be forgiven for thinking, if you live in Dunedin New Zealand, that you had teleported to a town in the Northern hemisphere and were in for a winter Christmas. We have had weeks of rain, wind and hail.
Today was supposed to be the start of summer, instead I packed a scarf for work this morning. However, as it was also the start of December we had the start of the festivities at work to warm our hearts.
Christmas bake-off brought out the creativity (and the laziness of people like me who chose to sample instead).


Somehow it fell to me to arrange cakes for five work sites in three towns this week. They were to recognize White Ribbon Day (anti violence against women). A special email had gone out advising everyone of the cakes’ impending arrival.
Not a problem you say, just go to a cake shop and get them to make you some. Well let me tell you something you big city, decent infrastructure folks, in Dunedin we don’t have a lot of affordable options. I could have bought frozen slab cakes but then someone would need to decorate them, and it wasn’t going to be me.
One thing in life that causes me anxiety is being in charge of people’s food (see also people’s fun).
Anyway, I found online that a chain of supermarkets would custom decorate two certain types of cake. I carefully wrote out what I wanted, even drew a handy picture and attached a copy of a white ribbon incase the shop had no idea what I meant. I put in the order, paid and trotted off to organize the orders from the other two towns.
Then I got a phone call “We don’t customize cakes”, Noooooo! “But it said so on your website”. “You’ll have to come and see the manager.”
I hastily printed out the page and trotted over waiting to be told it was back to the drawing board. The bakery man informed me they could customize the cake but it would mean the existing design of hearts and nuts would have to go. Well, obviously.
I then had to phone a town forty minutes away to book a cake, explaining over the phone what it was I wanted “Like a breast cancer ribbon but white” (very important, I then fretted they would just write down “breast cancer ribbon”). After work I drove to visit a supermarket just out of the city for another cake – “I can’t draw but I’ll do my best”.
I then spent an anxious few days fretting that all seven cakes would turn out looking ridiculous and it would be all my fault. (I have big worries in my life as you can see.)
Well, they not only turned out exactly as I asked but one shop even made little white chocolate ribbons for added decoration. Don’t worry me like that!

No Complaints Allowed

Like some kind of cheese junkie I was feeling nauseous due to a cheese craving. I am tucking into a lovely cheese sandwich but will have to suffer the consequences in silence. Mr Pigalina has told me I can eat cheese as long as he doesn’t hear any complaints about my sore belly.
Curse you, you delicious substance.