“A pig in the house?” My grandmother was aghast! “It will be ok, she is house trained,” I reassured her.
Petunia was a pot-bellied pig, small by no means. At 150 pounds, she was more imposing than the dogs at the front door. People couldn’t believe their eyes. More than one near collision occurred on the street when a pig was spotted rooting in the flower beds or following me patiently as I carried in groceries.
Paddy, as we affectionately call her, came to us as most of our animals have. She needed a home. Her owner was moving and couldn’t take her. My grandmother had just moved into my home the same summer. She was not fond of pigs in the first place, let a lone one whose snorts punctuated conversations.
Paddy must have sensed grandma’s angst, something like when a dog senses fear and nips heels. One day arriving home from an outing, I found Paddy Pig calmly standing in the middle of grandma’s office looking sedate and slightly mischievous. It was then I realized that she had found grandma’s stash of goodies. Cookie crumbs, a torn up Ritz cracker box and the saucy new lip color she was wearing were dead give-aways. Cheetos must be her favorite, because the only evidence of them left was her orange grin, she even ate the bag.
Telling grandma that day that the pig ate her goodies was not easy. My grandmother is a calm person, but I could read it in her eyes. She could really do without the pig!!
Paddy was not only a drawer vandal, she could get into anything zippered and loved to find Aspen’s diaper bag, which always had an emergency cache of treats. She would unzip it, find the baggie of snacks and munch, bag and all until it was perforated a thousand times, the sweet treat inside dissolved to mush and squished into her mouth. We always found the bags intact except for the perforations and had to marvel at her patience. Her favorite was bubble gum and she used all of her wiles to get it, even begging on her haunches like a puppy for a treat. You knew she had had a successful raid when you opened the front door and heard the steady smack, smack of a pig on a Strawberry Hubba Bubba high. We learned to hide the bubble gum and put any treats far off the floor.
Food was not her only vice, she used to steal the pillows off my bed by pulling on the comforter until all the pillows came off with it, then she would comfortably build a nest, comforter and all. Her protest being so loud when I found my bed bare and asked her to re-locate that I would sleep on the couch so I wouldn’t wake Aspen.
Paddy pig was also an early riser. Sometime around 4 am every morning, the alarm in her very bright pig brain would start chirping. If I so much as turned over, she was sure it was time to go out. With what seemed to someone who had been in a dead sleep, the good morning gusto of a very annoying drill sergeant she would persist, not for very long, mind you, until I let her in the back yard. When she wanted back in, she would squeal like I was scalding her. I am sure the neighbors wondered.
After 5 years, everyone has gotten used to Paddy the pig. It’s kind of nice to have your own garbage backyard disposal and garden fertilizer all in one. Walkers have changed their routes just to stop by and say “Hi” to Petunia, “Paddy” Pig each morning. She is a good deer deterrent too. Everyone close to us has built deer proof fences around their gardens, we only need a pig. The mischief factor has decreased significantly, she now sleeps on a fluffy dog bed in a ground floor room because her legs are getting arthritic and stairs are not easy any more.
I had raised pigs for 4-H and FFA, though I loved them, the possibility of one curled up in nest of my comforter and pillows never occurred to me. I never dreamed I would have a pig for a house pet. Now I can’t imagine life without one.
Want to know more about my passions beyond pigs see www.contemporarywesterndesign.com
