The Gentle Measure of Percy

Dearest Percy, this is not the story we thought we would be writing tonight.

For only recently, we penned a tale, as yet unpublished, of your wonderful friendship with Mikey. Two elderly gentlemen, vastly different in size, who discovered that life’s later chapters could hold some of its sweetest surprises.

Yet life, as we are so often reminded, does not always follow the stories we hope to tell.

And so tonight, we write another. One of tribute, grace and gratitude.

For you, our beautiful boy.

There was such serenity in those precious sky-blue eyes of yours. Rare eyes for a pig, but then, Percy, you were a rare kind of pig.

Born to dear Piggy Sue, a gentle soul who escaped the fate intended for her and, in doing so, saved not only herself but her eight unborn babies. You were one of those precious lives, never claimed by an industry that would otherwise have determined your worth.

And what a life you made of that chance.

Growing into a magnificent 220-kilogram gentleman, your body was bred to accommodate human wants rather than your own needs. Yet you never allowed your enormous size to overshadow your gentle nature.

Even little Mikey, barely half your weight, was allowed to call the shots, while you seemed perfectly content to let him.

Such was the measure of you, dearest Percy.

Then, just days ago, something changed. A slight tilt of your head, an unfamiliar alteration to your gait, and slowly, heartbreakingly, your world began to lose its shape.

Your balance faltered, and the simple act of rising became an enormous challenge for a body already carrying so much. As your condition rapidly declined, we found ourselves facing that most difficult expression of love: knowing when to let go.

And once again, grief found its familiar way into our hearts.

As we cradled your enormous leg one final time to take your trotter print, we chose gold. Gold for a life so precious, and for the golden pumpkins that had brought you such simple joy.

We take comfort that your final meal was your beloved cooked pumpkin, enjoyed, for once, without having to share a single mouthful.

And as for dear little Mikey, whose later years were made all the richer for having you beside him, we shall keep him close. For while we cannot explain to him why his gentle giant is no longer there, we can ensure he never has to face that absence without kindness.

Or pumpkin, for that matter. Yes, we shall give him an extra serve and let him know it was from you.

So go gently, our beautiful big pink boy.

You were never measured by the weight of your body, the purpose for which you were bred, or the space you occupied in this world.

For the truest measure of Percy was always the gentleness with which he occupied it.

And what an immeasurable trotter print you leave upon our hearts.