At lunch the other day Uncle HerrZeus (how they pronounce Jesus, which is really his name), asked in Spanish what I thought of the whole pig's leg we keep on the sideboard. It was translated back to me and I made some sounds and smiles. He then added, apparently, that he thought English people look at it and see a pig, whereas Spanish just see ham.
He was completely right. I didn't tell him I had named it Harriet but I made some nodding motions to him.
I mostly ignored it when we were in the Madrid house, but right from the moment we arrived at the beach and I realised what was dragging from Javier's arms into the flat, it seemed more life life. I just felt so sorry for it. Bang, bang, bang. Trotter crashes into the lift door, trotter gets stuck on the door frame, the whole thing gets dropped on the floor.
It was worse when we got into the flat and I looked in the kitchen. There on the sideboard was last year's pet, thin and very distressed. Someone call the RSPCA! It looked like we left it with a gang of cats to maul it.
Here is a photo of when we went to the petshop to choose our new pig
I'll spare you a photo of the real thing as we've had it for a month now and it doesn't look well looked after. It puts its trotter in my face every morning as I reach into the muffin cupboard, saying 'Help me help', but alas, I think it's too late.
He was completely right. I didn't tell him I had named it Harriet but I made some nodding motions to him.
I mostly ignored it when we were in the Madrid house, but right from the moment we arrived at the beach and I realised what was dragging from Javier's arms into the flat, it seemed more life life. I just felt so sorry for it. Bang, bang, bang. Trotter crashes into the lift door, trotter gets stuck on the door frame, the whole thing gets dropped on the floor.
It was worse when we got into the flat and I looked in the kitchen. There on the sideboard was last year's pet, thin and very distressed. Someone call the RSPCA! It looked like we left it with a gang of cats to maul it.
Here is a photo of when we went to the petshop to choose our new pig
I'll spare you a photo of the real thing as we've had it for a month now and it doesn't look well looked after. It puts its trotter in my face every morning as I reach into the muffin cupboard, saying 'Help me help', but alas, I think it's too late.
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