Ever since we were first dating, my wife has told me that she loves pets. She grew up with dogs and cats, so it was a given that we would have pets in our house. While she loves our dog to the point that it has become a little bit unnerving and she defends our cat when I berate him for his avoidance of his litter box, these are not the two pets she really wants.
My wife wants a pet pig.
I do know that pigs are kept as pets by people. They are supposed to be loving and loyal pets, much like a pinker and much fatter dog. They are, however, livestock. While I am not absolutely opposed to having livestock wander around my house, I do find her fascination with having a slab of bacon sitting with us on the couch to be a bit unique.
I never thought this would become a real issue and put in the part of my brain that I keep all kinds of other strange ideas like my dream of a pet monkey or owning a Jetsons’ style rocket car. They seem interesting, but most likely will never happen, at least not until we all live in space age houses up in the stars.
I figured that, once every six months, we would discuss how she would like a potbellied pig as a pet. She could tell me how adorable they are, I could make the requisite eat-the-pet joke, and we could go on our merry little way knowing that, while we don’t have a pig of our own, no one else does either. It’s just not a common, normal pet.
Last night, we went on a walk around our neighborhood. It is usually a very boring walk, but yesterday was a little different. We were treated to teenagers nervously throwing their joint into a pond at the sight of adults walking by and an old fashioned stagecoach complete with a man donning period appropriate clothing, two events that made this walk a thousand times more entertaining than most we have experienced.
As if that were not enough, though, we came around the corner of our block, walking the homestretch. There, at the corner of Church Street and our little subdivision, stood a lady, leash in hand. Tugging at this leash was none other than a pot bellied pig.
I have never heard a human squeal at the pitch my wife reached. Her eyes turned into little saucers and her speech began to sound like a cassette tape that some has started playing at double speed.
“APIGI’VEALWAYSWANTEDAPETPIGLOOKHOWCUTETHEPIGIS! AWWWWWWWWW! LOOK AT IT’S TAIL!” she said, squeezing thirty seconds worth of words into a five second space.
We stood there and watched our dog and the pig sniff each other cautiously. I’m sure that, as strange as a pig looks to a dog, a wiener dog looks just as strange to that same pig.
Leaving, my wife continuing to talk about the pig’s tail and its cuteness and how nice that pig was. She started talking about how well our dog got along with that pig and how she has always wanted one. This, of course, can mean only one thing.
Eventually there will be a pig in my house.
I don’t know how soon this will happen. I could come home to find a pig on my couch today. There is no predicting what a pig-crazed woman will do.
There is great news, though. Once this happens, that means I can successfully clean out that closet of crazy ideas. Once a pig has been brought into our home, who’s to say I can’t have a pet monkey or rocket car? No one, because we have already defied all logic.
Who knows? That next walk we take, we could have a pig following us, monkey riding on his back, as we approach those pot-smoking teenagers.
That is sure to be an interesting moment for them.
- DARLING PIGLET THINKS HE’S A DOG and acts like one too! (ourpeaceablekingdom.wordpress.com)
- Cutest Pet Contest (hockeyimbf.wordpress.com)
- It’s Going To Involve a Lawyer At Some Point. (whatthefluffy.wordpress.com)