My schedule had been crazy. I was trying to launch a book, be a single mom and sell a territory for Cowboys & Indians Magazine. I had been on the road for several weeks, bouncing from one city to another, lecturing and doing signings. It just happened that I had a 24 hour layover in Cody before I went on to the NFR in Las Vegas. JeNeil had been house and animal sitting. In the days before I arrived for a welcome stay in my own bed, it had gotten very cold and snowy with temperatures dipping well below zero.
One panic call to my cell phone went something like this, “Paddy is standing in the middle of the living room floor with a plastic bag in her mouth, munching. I can’t get it away from her, what do I do? She just snorts and chases me away when I get close.” Poor JeNeil, unless you are used to a pig and their behavior, and even if you are when they turn on you with disgust, it makes your heart leap into your throat. It is always very fast and incredibly noisy. My reply, “Don’t worry. Just let her be. It will come out the other end.” The second call came as I was about to board a plane in Charlotte, NC after lecturing at High Point. I was laden with car seat, briefcase, diaper bag and a 2 year old pulling me down the ramp. As we stood in line to board, I tried to keep my voice down, “What do you mean she hasn’t gone out for 24 hours? Has she pooped anywhere?” “No. Good.” “Don’t be afraid of her, she’ll make a terrible fuss, just push her out the door, leave her for a bit. Hopefully she will go.” Aaah, that Paddy, she had a way of bluffing so good no one would go near her, but me.
I made it home that afternoon, exhausted and unsure where to begin to prepare to go again the next day. After checking everything out, I found poor Paddy pig, she lay on her fluffy bed, tail straight out… two little pig poops on the floor. At first I was angry, because she is very house broke. Then I realized something was wrong. She was constipated. “Oh, Jeez, what do I do with a constipated pig?” I thought. Doctoring animals was nothing new to me. I had done everything in the book growing up. Blood, guts, feces, I had experienced it all. Nothing really bothered me. I called the vet. Scott just laughed. “Only you Thea, he teased, would have a constipated pig. Only me, I thought would have a 24 hour layover, the first in weeks at my own home, and I would spend it giving the pig an enema. I shook my head. By this time it was late and I couldn’t go anywhere for supplies. What to use? Hmmmmm. First I tried the turkey baster. Nope that doesn’t work, it won’t hold water, it dribbles out before I can get it anywhere.
Eventually armed with yellow dishwashing gloves and extra bulb syringe for sucking baby boogers, an ice cream bucket with warm soapy water and a towel, Hobbie the cat and I went to rescue Paddy pig from her discomfort.
Only me, I thought again as I pulled on the gloves and covered her eyes with the towel so I got a head start on the process. Hobbie perched on a small table just over my shoulder peered on with fascination. Tail up, syringe in place, water in, rinse, repeat. All the sudden there was pig poop shooting forth like little canon balls. Poor Hobbie. On his perch, he was like a bandit caught in the glare of headlights. He was at the right height and as I managed to get out of the way of the barrage he was pounded with little hard balls of pig poop. He jumped, leapt and twisted, wondering what the devil was shooting at him. At this point I was in such a fit of hysterical laughter I couldn’t stand up, let alone rescue my poor assistant. Needless to say, we accomplished our mission. Paddy pig was much relieved. We made our 6 am flight with straight faces and a really good story.
Only me.
In the photo: Paddy Pig begging for treats. Isn't she cute?
Want to know more about what I do, besides play veterinarian? You can see what I do everyday at www.contemporarywesterndesign.com
