I never planned to fall in love with a pig. It just happened.
You see, a friend of a friend was looking for a home for his pig and posted as such on FaceBook. When my friend Alan saw the post, he immediately figured the pig and I were meant for each other. Alan is an alien with strange telepathic powers. Alan is also a rather zany artist and often uses farm animals as subjects.
But what the heck was he thinking?
He knew good and well I am a horse girl, a dog girl; a cat girl. Wait, let’s make that ‘woman.’ I’ve always wanted to be a Catwoman.
But a pig chick? …I have to admit, I liked the sound of it.
Did Alan’s telepathic powers have to do with the fact that I kissed his pig painting at an art show?
Seems to me, Alan has his own big-fat-flying-pig-love going on.
Ironically, it didn’t take me long to be convinced of my desire for this pig. Maybe five minutes of serious consideration. My two biggest concerns were;
a. Where would we put the pig??? Of course! …the chicken coop which is near the barn and the creek, with plenty of room to roam.
b. What about my dogs? Would they kill him? Would they harass him? Would they be jealous? Tommy assured me, D.O.G. got along fine with d.o.g.s….not to worry.
Still, I worried. But as it turned out, Tommy was right.
Recluse Man was another story. He grunted and protested, but ever the pacifist, he eventually acquiesced. I think he figured I’d do whatever-the-hell-I-wanted-anyway.
I reminded him… “I AM the TRIBAL PRINCESS on FREEKA’S FUNNY FARM!”
Then I ripped my top off and danced around the couch to distract his ‘thinking brain’ by engaging his ‘guy-brain’ which is that ‘reptilian brain’ in his cerebellum. Topless princess on the loose….works every time on the guy brain.
But let’s get back to the pig..shall we?
On a chilly February day, I drove to the next county over to meet Tommy and his pig named D.O.G. Tommy is Mister Cool. He is the only guy I know who can get away with wearing crochet shorts. He hugged me the first time I laid eyes on him and I knew right then, he must have a wonderful pig. Twenty minutes later his pig fake-chomped me as I tried to pose for a FaceBook photo and I about peed my pants… no shit.
After the fake-chomp, I was a little shaken and had lingering thoughts about how wrong this might be. Yet there was something about this pig.
Maybe it was the first time he wagged his tail at me….or maybe like the Roberta Flak song….’The first time ever I saw his face.’ I would continue with, ‘I thought the sun rose in his eyes’ … but to this day I have not seen the pig’s eyes.
Here is the first time ever I saw D.O.G.’s face….how could I not fall in love?
Tommy brought D.O.G. to me with the agreement I would keep him for a one month trial period. If it all worked out, he would stay indefinitely as part of the tribe.
I had to ask Tommy, “Do you call him ‘D-O-G?’ …or ‘dee-oh-jee?’ …or knowing me, I’ll get it backwards and call him G-O-D.”
“Ha Ha. Whatever works for you,” he said.
Recluse Man and I mostly refer to him as ‘deoji,’ but I also call him ‘pigster,’ or ‘silly pig,’ or ‘you dawg,’ or if he’s been naughty I’ll use his proper name with a stern voice; ‘D.O.G.’ … just like my mom called me FRED-ERR-RICA when I was in trouble. It’s a shame to make cringes of a good and proper name, but it works.
Before long, the coop was ready for D.O.G.’s grand entrance. Tommy coaxed him from within…But D.O.G. changed his mind and other methods had to be employed… Nothing beats peanut butter on a stick!The power of peanut butter!!!!
I knew D.O.G. had lived in several different locations in his short life. He was a gadabout…a worldly pig who had grown up in an RV, and attended music festivals, and knows more people in town than I do. But at the ripe age of 3 1/2, Tommy knew it was time to find him a permanent home with loving, stable people.
Did I really say ‘stable?’
The horse stable…yes, yes.
So he ended up on a funny farm with a stable and loving people. Good enough. I was determined to make it work and have this be his final home…if only he’d quit with those scary fake-chomps!
Now here it is six months later and we are all tickled pink and living high on this hog!
And should you be wondering…I hug him everyday.