Oinkers, Doink & Sidney

This triple bill of Porcine Perfection is known as Oinkers, Doink and Sidney (or Sydney. He can't spell.)
Porcus Majoris is reasonably tractable, but the two porcus minorus are liable to cut up something awful if you leave them unchaperoned.

All three have been sent to keep company with the new baby of a very good friend. They used to be my very favorite purple sweater.
            Then the sweater got felted. I didn't know much about felting before it happened, but I've done some research since: one takes wool rovings, or knitted wool fabric, and through the application of detergent suds and agitation and hot water, one turns them into felt.
It's a highly specific process, prone to balling and piling, but the best results are achieved through the use of a centrifuge in conjunction with very high heat.  (You want shrinkage to squash the knitted fabric into felt.)
About a year ago, I accidentally ran this sweater through a hot wash layered between two sheets. The washer and dryer in our old house in Adelaide uses water at about six billion degrees centigrade and spins the water out of the clothes with a small medical-grade centrifuge...
The sweater came out sixteen sizes too small, fully hypo-allergenic, and perfectly felted.
            It was a freak of perfect circumstance, and I have not been able to duplicate it since.  And I have ruined a few thrift shop sweaters trying! 
           So I made pigs instead* and embroidered all over them with silk ribbons.  But for the love of heaven, if you use this pattern, chop the noses off. Poor Porcus Majoris looked like an anteater. Even after some serious lopping he looks less than porcine. With the three porcus minoris, I cut the snout back almost to their front legs- now they look like pigs.

Originally the two porcus minorus had major embroidery on both sides, but I sort of forgot to leave room for an ear and eye on the really busy side and had to unpick everything but the french knots.  Le sigh.

Clarice

This is Clarice. She is a rare blue dwarf lemur and she is six years old. She is dressed up as Miss Piggy for a New Year's Eve costume party, but because she's only six, she's only allowed to stay up till nine o'clock.
            We had a big argument over a wig of brassy blonde Miss Piggy curls - I said that they were far too big and far too MUCH for such a small lemur. She said that the curls were NECESSARY or nobody would know who she was, she'd just be any elegant pig in evening dress.
            I won because I am bigger than she is, but she is still sulking, which is why she's so excited to be going on a trip through international post to meet Miss A -another little girl - because grown-ups never EVER understand and in Korea where Miss A lives she bets people would be properly sympathetic and let her wear her costume with authenticity. I congratulated her on her mastery of big words, but I still wouldn't let her wear the wig. She sulked till seven o'clock.