Here is my constant lunch and dinner companion. The volunteers named him Happy Meal, but that's insulting to all warthogs everywhere, so I've renamed him Murray. I don't know why. He LOOKS like somebody's great uncle Murray.
You can see him here sleeping on my feet, leaving warthog spit on my feet. It's not the worst thing I've been covered in today, though, so I cope. Before he settles on my feet, however, we have to go through about 10 minutes of his "rooting" around on my legs. Picture a wet vacuum with a bit of nibble in it. Finally he lies down and makes lots of noise while he sleeps: he snorts, he has a sort of nasal whine, and he occasionally farts. Music to accompany dinner.
I wish I didn't have to give you bad news, but I do. The baby boy baboon didn't make it. Marieta took him to the vet in Gobabis three days in a row, but he was so small--born premature--and he had this virus that made the milk just go through him. He stopped breathing in the middle of the night. We're all devastated, of course. We were all putting everything into his care, but it was not to be. With over 400 other animals to care for, we go on. Here's a picture of him on his last day: