So they'll mate and Hog will have babies again, whom she'll immediately eat after giving birth to them...unless we're fast enough. Month after month a litter of dead bloody spiky newborns litter their cage's wood shavings bedding. Sometimes, without a trace. Or with only one little detached leg, resting neath a chip of wood.
Again, my children and I will bear witness to regular grim reminders of a universal truth, a monthly affirmation of an a priori knowledge: All mammals are mortal.
And some of us even get eaten right after birth.
(And, you guessed it right, we named our Hog's new partner "Hedge 2.")
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