At the age of 38, I didn’t realize that marrying a trial lawyer would lead to another one of life’s great experiences, owning my first pet. During a jury trial, my husband accepted a bet from the opposing attorney that if he won the case he would take a piglet from the litter of her mother pot-bellied pig. Well, of course he won the trial, the bet and one little piggy! Coming home with this brilliant news he asked what color pig did I want. I said, “Just get a pig that matches our furniture!”
What an adventure the ensuing years would bring. The day that Penelope arrived home, our whole family was waiting at the curb. We couldn’t believe what an adorable piglet we had chosen to match our furniture! She was all pink with white hair and black spots. We had her bed and toys all ready on the floor of the carpeted master bathroom. We all got down on the floor and played with her to make her feel welcomed. Without one tearful goodbye to her sisters, brothers and mother, Penelope established herself as a part of our family without hesitation. At night, or whenever she felt a bit sleepy, she would hop into her bed and doze off. She was already trained to use a piggy-litter box. It didn’t take long before my motherly instincts were in full bloom and Penelope became my baby.
One day while I was away, my husband called me with an emergency. He said, “You better come home and take care of the pig. She’s ripping the wallpaper off the walls and has rolled a can of birdseed from one end of the dining room to the other…and she has a REAL ATTITUDE!” I rushed home and found Penelope going through what I call, “Piggy PMS”. This was the first time the lawyer said the pig had to go. It wouldn’t be the last. I called the vet. He suggested that we have Penelope’s tubes tied. I said, “How soon can I bring her over?” The operation took place and Penelope was soon home recuperating in a much better mood.
Now one might ask, and several did, “How can you live with a pig?” In all fairness to the pig, I was also asked, “How can you live with a trial lawyer?” Both the pig and the lawyer wondered why I kept the other one around. Contrary to popular belief, pigs are not “dirty”, and lawyers are “human”– although I do agree that they are a breed of their own. Actually, pigs like to be clean and lawyers like to be loved. In fact, pigs never get fleas and children allergic to dogs and cats generally do not have allergic reactions to pigs. And, contrary to popular lawyer jokes, when you’re in trouble and you need to go to court, most people want the meanest, toughest, trial lawyer they can find! You know how dogs look “up” to people, and cats look “down” on people? Well, pigs think they are your “equal”. And, I think being “pig-headed” is a prerequisite for law school!
This is where the problem began with the pig and the lawyer. He thought he could dominate her, just like dogs that he had dominated in the past. This was not to be. Winston Churchill once said, “If you want to lead a nation, try raising a pig!” I am now looking for a small country in the south pacific to lead now that I have accomplished this task of raising Penelope B. Good. In fact, with my acute knowledge gained by also living with a trial lawyer for over 10 years, I probably have a few things to teach Mr. Churchill if only he were still alive! Ah, but I’m regressing…back to my story!
Every two weeks, I took Penelope in my old, yellow Lincoln Town car to the pet grooming shop. This was a necessity after one experience of a home bath, which turned out to be a screaming match between the lawyer and the pig. In the car, she would jump up in my lap and press her pig snout on the driver’s side window to watch the passing sights. She just loved that old car. However, when other drivers took one look at my car window, many of them would literally pull off the road. They just weren’t sure if they had seen a pig driving by or if they were hallucinating!
I really felt sorry for our first vet. He agreed to take her, even though his practice was just typical pets. We would take this little 12-pound, baby pig into the vet and watch the veterinarian staff chase her back and forth from hallway to hallway. Penelope would give off these very loud, ear-piercing screams. We would calmly look the other way as if we didn’t notice this horrendous noise was coming from our pet. The other shocked clients in the waiting room held tightly to their animals and prayed to God that their next visit would not be scheduled on the same day as ours.
When Penelope developed a hoof infection, I was immediately on the phone to the vet. A visiting Russian vet was in the office on an exchange program. When the discussion began about taking a sample of the infected hoof, the staff readily agreed that it would be far easier if they came out to our house. In fact, on many occasions when I called to make an appointment, they gladly offered to make a house call after those first few visits left the rest of their clients numb from the shock of hearing a pig scream. Anyway, this Russian vet explained to my vet that … “He “KNEW” pigs! And that he SPECIALIZED in swine back in Russia and HE would make the house call. Had he KNOWN MY PIG, he wouldn’t have been so quick to decline a second staff member’s offer of assistance.
When I opened the door and saw just one person standing there, I asked where the others were. He explained that he didn’t need assistance because he could “talk to the pig” and that the pig would cooperate under his direction. Controlling my laughter, I told him Penelope was out on the back porch and to go right ahead and start talking! After 30 minutes passed and I could hear that things weren’t going very well, I popped my head out the back door and told him I usually would lead her into the laundry room where my regular vet could easily capture her. The Russian vet stood up very straight, nodded his head and said, “That will be fine.”
I led little 12 pound Penelope into the laundry room like a sheep to the slaughter. Within minutes, I heard things bumping and banging around the laundry room. There was screaming and hollering from both the pig and the Russian vet. A rumble was taking place in my laundry room! The vet was screaming and hollering just as much as the pig! I wondered, at what point should I open the door and save the vet or the pig? The noise stopped and the door opened. The pig jumped out as if nothing happened and happily ran out to the back yard to look for fallen acorns. Then the Russian vet appeared. I was horrified. His uniform was torn and he had cuts, bruises and blood all over his face, arms and legs. I offered Band-Aids for his wounds. He said, “That would NOT be necessary!” And, with all the dignity that poor Russian vet could muster, he gathered his supplies, the sample and left.
Final Score: Penelope -1 Russian Veterinarian – 0. The Russian vet went back to Russia soon thereafter and we never saw him again.
The years went by and soon a law was passed in our town outlawing pot-bellied pigs from living in the city limits. The lawyer once again had a reason to get rid of the pig – a $2,000 fine. By then the novelty of owning a pig had made him rather famous with all the judges down at the courthouse. So, this is when the lawyer began serious negotiations with me – the initial offer…two dogs in exchange for the pig. I said, “No deal – I’ll just live with an outlaw pig, thank you very much!”
As the pig grew and grew, our friends kept telling us she was going to get “fat”. Duh! By the time Penelope reached her 7th birthday, she weighted 170 pounds. It was time for the “Piggy Fat Farm”.
With a kind, new country vet who really did “KNOW PIGS” we packed up Penelope for a trip down to a pot-bellied pig farm just south of town to get her lean, mean and like a fighting machine! She was put on a diet and an exercise program with a penthouse pigpen view of the farm, complete with her own swimming pool!
Every afternoon after work, I would drive to the country to see my pig. One of the best things about owning a pig is they sleep a LOT. I would come home after work, feed her, and curl up with my pig for an afternoon nap. With the birds chirping and Penelope snoring, I would sleep peacefully for at least one hour before I started my nightly routine.
This practice never changed, not even when Penelope was at the “Piggy Fat Farm”. Penelope lost 40 pounds and came home in August. I was really proud of her weight loss!
Well, all good stories must come to an end. A year ago, after many phone conversations with our country vet about my aging 10-year-old pig’s health problems, the vet came to check on Penelope. During that visit, in a calm and reassuring manner, he advised me that a decision would have to be made to end her suffering. He said, “The sooner you make this decision, the better it will be on Penelope as well as you.”
So, together we talked it through and I came to the conclusion that with his help, the kindest thing to do for my pig was to put her down. Penelope and I had been best friends for 10 years. I gave her a last cluster of grapes (her favorite food) and he injected the first drug. Penelope relaxed in my arms. Then he administered a second drug and she fell asleep in my arms. This would be the last time I held her. Our last nap time together with the birds chirping and the sun shinning, I thought of the darling little piglet that came to live with people who had no clue how to raise a pot bellied pig. But love always works things out … and some hard work, too. She was my baby, and no one could ever take away the hours of contentment I had, holding her in my arms and living with her for ten rather exciting years!
The kind Vet waited until I was ready for the final step, and while Penelope lay sleeping peacefully, with the birds chirping in the late afternoon, he injected the final drug and within seconds Penelope died in my arms.
Through all those years I continued to love both the lawyer and the pig. I look back and don’t know how I did it sometimes. But I know that I wouldn’t take anything for the experience of loving them both. It’s unfortunate that the virtues of each escaped the other. But nevertheless, each of them taught me so many lessons – like being patient, kind and accepting of them. And, finally I learned never to give up on people or pets.
Bacon Candy Crack-Up
Serves: 25
Chill Time: 30 minutes
Cook Time: 10 minutes
Ready in: 40 minutes
Ingredients:
- 35 saltine crackers (about 1 sleeve from a 16-ounce box)
- 2 sticks (1 cup) butter
- 1 cup sugar
- 2 cups (12-ounce package) semisweet chocolate chips
- 3/4 pound bacon, cooked crispy and crumbled
Directions:
- Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Line a 10- x 15- inch baking sheet with aluminum foil. Lay crackers on baking sheet, packing tightly.
- In a medium saucepan, melt butter; add sugar and bring to a boil 2 to 3 minutes, or until sugar is completely dissolved, stirring frequently. Immediately pour over crackers.
- Bake 7 minutes. Remove from oven and immediately sprinkle chocolate chips over crackers; return to oven 1 minute. Remove and evenly spread chocolate, then sprinkle with bacon.
INSPIRATION:
I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.
-Winston Churchill