The Day I Saved A Potbellied Pig

When I agreed to watch my sister’s 3 kids that day, I had no idea saving their small potbellied pig from the family dog was part of the deal. Had I known I would be playing Kevin Costner to this pigs Whitney Houston (yes this is a reference from the 1992 hit The Bodyguard) I’d have trained with some serious hand to hand combat. Why my sister had a potbellied pig? I will never know. Potbellied pigs belong on free range farms where they are raised on non-genetically modified food and humanely converted to nitrate free bacon for my enjoyment.

The day started off normal enough. I fed the kids and was about to get them started on their lessons (they were being home-schooled at the time; I know my sister may as well live on a commune) when we heard the squeals of terror. I can’t recall exactly why but the pig and Jake, the family boxer, were in the garage…together. Granted Jake was tied up, but these two were as estranged as could be. See they had a history. The history included Jake fantasizing daily that the potbellied pig was a string of sausages or perhaps a nice pulled pork sandwich. So when Jake’s leash came untied it was like Oktoberfest without the sauerkraut. As I ran towards the door leading to the garage, the squeals got louder and I thought my eardrums might rupture. Afraid to open the door, I cracked it and instantly saw a trickle of blood on the floor. I opened it wider to find Jake wildly chasing the pig around the garage. As soon as the pig saw me, it made a beeline straight towards me and the open doorway. I screamed as it skimmed my legs. He had gotten pig blood on my new cute khaki pants and I didn’t even have a tide stick! I shut the door just as Jake was about to plow his way through. I heard a thud.

Before going after the pig I opened the door to the bathroom so I could trap it in there. I ran back towards the kitchen where the kids were now screaming because a bloody pig was racing around the entire house. I grabbed all three and huddled them on top of the kitchen table. I chased after the pig as he turned the corner into the living room where my sister’s lightly colored couches awaited the red stained pig. Luckily the pig thought that would be very unbecoming so he ran back straight through my legs and down the hall again. I chased that pig around the house like a kid in a Kentucky greased pig chasing competition except there was no deep fried prize at the end. I was at my wits end when the most brilliant thought popped into my head. Lure it with food! Pigs love to eat! Even when they are in the most distressed of situations, right? So I ran back to the kitchen in search of anything that would draw the pig’s attention. I grabbed the first thing I saw and shouted after the pig, “Come here piggy, I have delicious nourishment for you!” As I caught up to the pig I waved what I realized was a big ass piece of ham! What the f was I thinking?! There is no doubt in my mind that poor pig was certain he was in a concentration camp and he wasn’t even kosher. That was it, I had had it. I was going to get that pig in that restroom once and for all. I gathered all my might and chased it down the hall. I screamed for the oldest of the kids to block the pig’s right as I tried to steer him straight into his temporary pen. It worked! I shut the bathroom door behind him. It was over.

Later that night when my sister got home I explained the horror that was my day. The kids immediately chimed in that I had tried to catch the pig with the remains of his cousin Wilbur. She laughed hysterically as I sat shaking, sucking my thumb. The pig ended up dying some days later. Apparently Jake ended up getting the best of it. In memory of the potbellied pig I pour out some bbq sauce. I hope he’s enjoying that big free range farm in the sky.