Saturday, Feb. 25, 202: Porch Pig

In Which Violet Is No Longer a Pig in the House

I guess it is time to end this chronicle, since Violet is now outdoors 24/7. She seems happy burying herself in her hay bedding and skipping to the barn and chicken coops to commune with the other animals. But she is perhaps happiest when someone emerges from the house with swill in bucket.

What are we going to do with this pig? Grow her to an enormous size and show her off at agricultural fairs around the state? Breed her and sell her offspring down the river to be fattened up and eventually made into pork chops and bacon? Allow her the run of the farm for her full, natural life? Create a PowerPoint presentation and travel the country extolling life with a pet pig?

All of the above, I suppose. The story will continue. Just not in the house!

Tuesday, Feb. 14: Reclaiming My House

In Which Violet Is Gradually Weaned to the Outdoors

Look at this pig.  She's got it all over a dog. Our dogs jump on us, bark loudly and annoyingly, howl at strangers, trip us, get in our faces. The pig is just cute and funny. Sure, she's going to weigh about 300 pounds someday. And when that time comes, we can kiss our pretty wood floor goodbye. It will be naught but ruts made by trotters. But we're in denial about that for the moment.


Some of us are in denial, anyway. Namely, Rex and Kayti. Are they making an effort to transition pig to the great outdoors? Not in any way, shape or form. So it falls to me.
 To be fair, Rex has been out of state for the past week. If he hadn't been, I probably wouldn't have gotten away with trying to transition his Australian shepherd, Chrissie, to the great outdoors, too. My diabolical plan is to turn both Chrissie and Violet into animals that not only are not allowed in, but do not even wish to enter, the house. I've seen dogs that stay outdoors all the time and by God, they seem happy and healthy.

My ultimate goal is to wean Chrissie so far away from the house that she is, for all intents and purposes, living at someone else's house.

Hee hee hee. Don't tell Rex.

Wednesday, Feb. 8: A Major Milestone

In Which Violet Shows Signs of Maturity

She slurped her breakfast, then trotted to the door, went outside, and peed copiously. Wow!

Monday, Feb. 6: Pig on a Porch

In Which Violet Gets Fed a Lot and I Meet A Pig Named Phil

Well, little Violet is turning into a bit of a porker. Rex is highly sensitive to her nocturnal grunting, and he jumps out of bed (or clambers up the ladder from his cellar) at all hours of the night to try to avert a pig-peeing incident. Whether or not he succeeds, he proceeds to mix up some pig formula and feed her. This happens almost exactly every two hours.

Violet probably doesn't need all these feedings, but it is just so darn fun to do it. She is so enthusiastic about her formula! Her little trotters scuffle on the linoleum as we hold her back, and she oinks loudly. The trick comes in letting her go at the precise moment where her forward thrust won't send her flying into the dish and splashing the contents all over the floor.

Dealing with the pig pee is not so much fun. So I'm kind of encouraging her to stay outdoors most of the time, where at least the pee goes on the porch and not on the living room floor. She hangs out in what we have taken to calling the "pig cave" under our funky peddler cart, where there's some hay that makes a comfy bed. I started feeding her out there today. My hope is that she will realize that she prefers being out there.

While we're on the subject of pigs, here's my latest job hunt story:

I interviewed as an on-call nanny for a potbellied pig named Phil. He's two years old, weighs 80 pounds (40 pounds more than he's supposed to weigh) and lives in a mansion in Portland. I am not joking. This is his house: http://www.maestromosaics.com/Maine/Basement.asp  I thought there must be condos in this building, but no. It is one big residence. Phil has his own room -- the former butler's pantry. Check this link for a photo of a pig that looks like Phil: http://www.flickr.com/photos/wacko_sponky/3671432139/

Phil's owner warned me that I would have to work to gain Phil's trust, if not his affection. The biggest problem she has had in trying to find a sitter for him is that most people are afraid of him. I am not afraid of Phil, not even after he ramrodded me twice in the vicinity of my knees. I fed him three cookies and his owner and I chatted, but I guess I don't charge enough, because I haven't heard from her since, although she promised to call me the next day.

Whether or not I get the job, I am delighted that my line of work affords me entry into such fine homes. I'd never get in there otherwise!

Tuesday, Jan. 31, 2012: The Picky Pig

In Which Violet Commences to Communicate Her Preferences

At five weeks, Violet is not sleeping through the night. Her bedtime is about 10 p.m., and she's waking me up between 1:30 and 2:30 a.m. This is like having a baby, only I can't take her into bed with me and nurse her back to sleep.

She wakes up hungry, and as I sleepily mix up her formula, she waits at my feet, head raised, grunting impatiently at me. Lately she has refused to eat if the formula is not FRESH and WARM and IN AN ACCEPTABLE BOWL.

If I put down food in the wrong bowl, she sniffs at it with disdain and returns to grunting at me.

Sheesh!

On the plus side, she seems to be developing a sense of style. She was playing with a string of Mardi Gras beads, and I took that as an invitation to double up the strand and arrange it around her neck. She looked very fashionable, and I felt a strange sense of pride. My little girl! She's on her way to becoming a society sow!

Friday, Jan. 27: The Pig Who Would Be A Dog

In Which Violet is Encouraged to Eat Pig Crumbles but Likes Alpo Better

That says it all. My plan is to photograph Miss V. diving enthusiastically into the dog food and see if Purina will use her in commercials, thereby covering the costs of all the food I bought for her that she won't eat, not to mention the cost of Dotti's eye repopment (for lack of a better word).

Alas, I couldn't take the picture today. My camera battery is dead and of course we can't find the charger. For now, Purina will just have to use its imagination.

Thursday, Jan. 26: Dog Juggling

In Which Debbi Spends Most of the Day Maintaining Animal Peace

Back when I lived in South Berwick and had two dogs, Gretel and Robin, my stay-at-home boyfriend one day complained that he felt like a butler for dogs. All he did all day was let the damn dogs in and out, he said.

(I tried to make life more exciting for him. Once I jumped into a pile of leaves and emerged with a block of wood nailed to my foot and after I hopped about a quarter mile home, he got to drive me to the emergency room. I guess it wasn't enough for him, though. :-(  )

Anyway, I know how he felt, regarding the dogs, especially after today. Every time I went into the kitchen, which is accessed by a gate, I had to think, "OK, now, which dog can be in the same room with the pig and which dog has to be herded out to the non-kitchen living quarters?" Because, dear reader, I cannot afford any more $600 trips to the vet, so must avoid the Chrissie-shih tzu-piglet combination..

We hypothesize that Chrissie, the Aussie, was trying to protect Violet when she attacked Dotti and pulled out his eye. So, assuming Chrissie won't be getting a lobotomy, we predict that she'll strike again if the situation repeats itself.

Ooooh. Lobotomy. I hadn't thought of that before. That might solve all our problems! And be cheaper in the long run, too!