Blog 38
A Week of Suspicious Peace
This week was… calm.
Unsettlingly calm.
No ice sheets.
No emergency straw deliveries.
No dramatic human incompetence requiring my oversight.
The weather behaved for several consecutive hours, which frankly feels like a setup.
But then… in what I can only assume was an apology tour, the temperature rose into the 60s.
Sixty.
Degrees.
For one entire day.
I stepped outside and absorbed the sunlight like a solar-powered executive returning from sabbatical.
The mud softened.
The breeze stopped slapping my ears.
My mood improved 47%.
And that is when Grandma Donna arrived.
The Watermelon Offering
She came bearing tribute.
An entire tub of watermelon.
Not scraps.
Not “leftover rind.”
Not “you may share with the other pigs.”
An entire tub. For me.
She remembered I have a mouth.
She remembered I am special.
Reader, I do not exaggerate when I say I ate like a victorious emperor returning from battle.
Juice cascaded down my snout.
Seeds launched with authority.
The dogs stared in disbelief.
The other pigs considered filing a complaint.
Grandma Donna remains one of my favorite humans. I was briefly concerned during her recovery that fruit distribution standards might permanently decline on this farm.
But she has returned.
And she brought watermelon.
All is temporarily right with the world.
The “Snow Meeting”
Now.
Let us address the brunch situation.
My parents left the farm and announced they were going to brunch with friends.
When questioned, they claimed it was some kind of “snow meeting.”
A meeting.
About snow.
At a restaurant.
With mimosas.
I am not an expert in meteorology, but I feel confident that waffles are not required for snowfall analysis.
They left me here.
In the pasture.
Unconsulted.
However.
They returned with leftovers.
And suddenly, I was willing to overlook their suspicious weather summit.
Soft bread.
Savory meats.
Brunch-grade indulgence.
If they insist on conducting off-site snow negotiations, I expect full compensation packages upon their return.
This is now policy.
Reflections From the Sunbeam
So yes.
It was a quiet week.
One warm day.
A watermelon tribute.
A highly questionable “snow meeting.”
I repositioned myself in the sun.
I supervised fruit quality.
I accepted brunch reparations.
And I allowed the humans to believe they are in charge.
For now.
Snoutfully Yours,
🐽Squealexander Hamilton
Director of Seasonal Negotiations
Supreme Overseer of Brunch Compensation
Senior Analyst, Snow Meeting Affairs
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