Poor Puggy. I think yesterday’s climbing disappointment has hurt his boarly pride. I wish I knew how to tell him that he doesn’t need to impress me, I love him for the beautiful small brown piglet that he is.
We slept at the top of “Mount Easiest” last night. Not that I approve of this name. It may not have been Mount Everest, but it was mightily tough for us. A two-leg is about ten times taller than us, right? So if we trotted up a mountain even one tenth the size of Everest, we’ll still have done a more epic ascent than most two-legs manage. Ever. My explanation cheered Puggy up a bit. Sadly, I don’t think he will be completely satisfied unless we reach the real top of the world…
Trotting is so hard up here partly because of this strange “altitude sickness” that affects all beasties when they get close to mountains. I’m guessing it’s something in the mountain soil. It also makes breathing and snorting harder. Luckily it doesn’t last long—soon we should become immune to whatever causes this mountain allergy.
But anyway, we used that as our excuse to spend a decadent few hours staring into each other’s eyes while cooling off our trotters in a nearby stream. We perched on two rocks and waggled our trotters in the crystal clear water. It was both relaxing and romantic. What more could a small pink piglet want?
Listen to Piggy reading her Journal!