Pig Tales

With a Little Bruce Cockburn Thrown In for Good Measure

Image purchased from CANVA

I read somewhere that pigs make great pets; that you can put them on a leash, and they’ll follow you around like obedient little Yorkshire terriers. Like a loyal dog, they will respond to a name and come when you call them.

According to the Chinese horoscope, I am “a pig,” having been born during the year of one. This pleases me because pigs are cheerful, benevolent creatures. I’m happy to be associated with such traits. Also, pigs are representative of prosperity and intelligence. I like that, too. Although I’m still waiting…

I bonded with a pig once. I was young, broken-hearted, and looking for an adventure. In an impulsive move, I’d hopped on a Greyhound bus destined for the Cariboo region of British Columbia, lured by the fact it was unfamiliar and far away from a lot of memories I wanted to forget.

Anyway, back to the pig. She was of the Charlotte’s Web variety: big. Pink. And smiley (despite the food that always seemed to be stuck in her whiskers).

I called her Miranda because it seemed a fancy “pink” sort of name, and I think she liked it.

I would visit with her every morning before I started my shift, singing her Bruce Cockburn songs as I filled her feed trough with kitchen scraps from the main lodge. “Rumours of Glory” and “Wondering Where the Lions Are” (it was the 80’s, after all).

She…