This Little Piggy

I collect pigs. No, not real pigs. Mostly ceramic ones. Every size, shape and color. My family and friends know I collect pigs. They give me gifts along with the sentiment, "I saw this pig and I thought of you." Well. Thenk you.

My Dad use to say, "I stood up for you today. Someone said you weren't fit to eat with the pigs and I said you were." Well. Thenk you.

Now on the other hand, my Mother had a saying which I use on occasion, but to this day, I have absolutely no idea what it means. When asked where my Dad was, she would reply, "He went fishing and the pigs ate him." Well. Okay.

Baby Son had a friend who had all kinds of animals on their farm. A little pig named Daisy who was trained to pull the bell on the door when she wanted to go out. Many goats, chicken, dogs, cats, horses, cows, geese and an African Bush Hog named Ringo. When Ringo was a tiny piglet (or is it hoglet?), he tried getting into a bucket of water which he did... but couldn't get out of. He was going down for the count when out of nowhere, a big Mama Goose pulled him out. From that day on, she adopted Ringo and took care of him. Ringo grew up... and out. Full-grown, he stood about 3 feet high, 4 feet long, about 400 pounds with 1 1/2 ft tusks. He was a formidable sight, but he was a big baby. He roamed the yard, rooting for whatever he could find to eat. I was told that Ringo loved to be petted. He would sit up like a dog and nudge until he got his ears scratched. So that's what I proceeded to do. Mama Goose came barreling up to me with two other geese, side-by-side, necks and heads together as one, honking and squawking like their tails were on fire. I started to turn around but not fast enough... Mama Goose bit me in the ass! She was protecting her baby, Ringo. Baby Son, who was laughing his ass off, shooed them away with a rake he was carrying (for just that reason! I saw him carrying a rake, but never gave it a second thought). It was only then that he explained about how Mama Goose had saved Ringo yadda yadda yadda.

I travelled to Missouri with My Sister and her husband (now her ex) when I was 12. There were cows, goats, and hogs. I was warned to be careful as I crossed the barnyard so I didn't slip and fall. City (suburbia) girl that I was, asked "Why?". My eyes followed the pointing finger to the skeletal remains of a cow that had fallen down among the hogs. "They eat anything," I was told. Yeesh! I believed it! These hogs were huge! I was mad at My Sister for some reason so every time I passed this one red hog (My Sister is a red-head), I would say, "Hiya, Sis!" The boy who was with me thought it was funny, but I don't think she would have thought so.

Speaking of pigs and My Sister (what a segue), for my 39+1 birthday, she bought me a concrete pig. It's about the size of my Puggly, Annie but it weighs a ton! It took 4 guys to carry it in. My nieces bought two little piggies to go with it. I repainted them a couple years ago, but it looks like they'll need it again after we move. My Man decided to move them... by himself... and dropped Mama Pig and broke her ear. He glued it back on, but it looks bad.

When we move, I'll be pulling out all my pigs and displaying them. They have been packed away for over 6 years... poor piggies!

That's it for the Piggy Tales except to say that my grandkids don't like my versions of "This Little Piggy".

This little piggy went to Bloomingdales, but this little piggy could only go to WalMart. This little piggy had Prime Rib, but this little piggy only got a Big Mac. And this little piggy whined and complained..."Nobody loves me. Nobody plays with me. Everybody hates me...."