As I was getting my post ready, I wanted a bit of art to brighten up the New Year. When I saw this, I was reminded of our pig Wilma. She is most likely the only pig in the world to die of old age and be buried by a backhoe.
Wilma was a remarkable pig. Being a Yorkshire, she was nearly 800 pounds and was quite lovely with her buttermilk coloured skin. She had long eyelashes which she fluttered to entice the charmed owner into giving her nearly anything she wanted. Honestly, I thought that pig could use telepathy.
One of Wilma's favorite things was to share a Coke and a pack of Nabs every afternoon at 3 p.m. , just before the children's bus would come home from school. Around 2:30 I would hear her start to grunt.
"Ughn, ughn, ughg" she would loudly proclaim from her lot.
I'd open the door and holler at her: "What do you need, Wilma??"
"Ughn, ughn, ughg."
I knew what this meant. Coke and Nabs, which are Nabisco peanut butter and crackers, you know, the orange ones that you get at the store for snacking. Wilma loved these and the 6.5 ounce Coke from a bottle. We had started this ritual when I was working on the house. Every afternoon, my brother and I would stop working at this time for a snack and to rest for a few minutes. We started sharing with Wilma who, frankly, was addicted. It was shameless.
After three calls from the Pig Princess, I would grab the Nabs and two Cokes and head to the pig yard. She'd wait for me to climb in and the lie down so that I could prop up on her and share our snack. I'd eat a cracker; she'd eat one. I'd drink some of my Coke; she'd have some of hers -- from the bottle. Until the day she died, we had this same ritual.
When Wilma finally died of old age, we had the local backhoe operator come to the house and bury her for us. John and I said a few words over the grave and pronounced, as Wilbur, she was "some pig."
And she was.