I put the bars down between them. One remained apparently oblivious. The other ran his nose into the bars and looked both anxious and indignant. They both dealt with the problem by eating dinner. They have been separated so that I can run an experiment on them.
It’s for their own good – well, for Wolfgang’s, I hope. He has become suddenly thin, a little bag of bones with the bounce taken out, while Alnitak remains plump and sleek. Our vet poked and peered, could find nothing obvious. Separation is the only way to find out what each piggy is eating and drinking, and luckily this is easy as they have two cages with one side taken out to join them. All I had to do was put a side back on, and now we have two cages, two water bottles, two little bedrooms, two bowls and two rather put out pigs.
The mirror images are comical: when one drinks from the water bottle, the other, cued by the rattle, goes to lap from his bottle; when one nuzzles and munches the goodies in his bowl, so does the other.
I am weighing all the food put into each cage with ludicrous care, and then trying to weigh what remains later in the day. Too early to be sure; but I think the question is one of hay. I hope I get it right, because the answer is either recovery or death.