Why I don’t need a pet pig to write a book

W and I took the kids to a Pet Expo today.

We go every year.  We’re all big animal lovers.

The expo features all kinds of neat stuff like rescues trying to adopt out animals, a small petting zoo, vendors and various animal shows.  Plus, most attendees come with their pets, so it’s a lot of fun to people and pet watch.

I knew alpacas can knit!

I knew I was right!

I bought W a pair of alpaca gloves.  They are so soft.  W said they are made from alpaca wool.  I insisted that they were knit by alpacas.

The expo was heavy on dog stuff.  As cat lovers, we found that racist.

We saw the cutest baby turtles for sale.  They must have been about the size of a half dollar.  Other highlights: A pair of Jack Russell puppies that we oohed and ahhed over, beautiful Egyptian Mau kittens and a tiny Chihuahua sporting a sparkly tutu who looked like she had come straight from Dance Moms.

But it was two baby potbelly pigs who caught my attention.

They were in adjoining runs.  A black one and a white one with brown spots.  Both about the size of toaster ovens, I’d say.  “They’re available for adoption,” the woman in charge told us.

I turned to W.

“This is my book,” I said excitedly.  “We adopt a pig.  I write about our adventures.  With the pig.  It’s brilliant.”

I’m thinking that this will be huge.  Bigger than Marley and Me.  Or Dewey: The Small Town Library Cat Who Touched the World.  Bigger and better because it’s a pig for crying out loud.  Not a stupid dog.  How boring.  Or a cat.  So cliche.

I have the writing talent.  All I need is a pig.  It was all so clear.

And here’s the best part.

“If you really want a pig, you can get one, baby,” W says.

And she means it.

I love that she indulges me and my crazy ideas.  I love that I have someone by my side who says sure, get a pig or another kitten or whatever it is that you think you need to be happy.

Oh, Lily Tomlin.

Oh, Lily Tomlin.

It would be cool to be able to say that we came home from the Pet Expo with a baby potbelly big.  We named her Lily Tomlin.  She got into a bag of flour that was on the bottom shelf of the pantry.  You should see the mess!  Right now, she’s curled up on the floor with one of the cats.  I’m not sure which one is snoring.  Maybe both of them!  It just goes to show you that animals don’t see color, or race or species — only another worthy soul.  We are learning so much from Lily Tomlin, and it’s only been three hours.  Imagine how much richer our lives will be in three days!

The truth is that potbelly pigs are big.  And some of them might not like cats.  Well, maybe for breakfast.  You can train them to use a litter box.  But it would have to be a large litter box.  (The experts recommend a metal liner used for hot water heaters.)

While the pig lady was trying to sell us on adopting a pig, I was doing the math: Our cats are small, about 8 pounds or so on average.  A potbelly pig will get to be 90 to 150 pounds.  So, one small potbelly equals about 12 cats, give or take.

We have room for another cat right now.  But probably not 12, unless we want to get serious about an appearance on Hoarders next season.

Right now, I complain if one of the cats goes outside the litter box or throws up on the furniture.  Imagine cleaning up after a pig?

So, the Pet Expo was fun, even though we didn’t come home with a pig or any other pet for that matter.  Right now, we have enough animals to take care of and to love.

And certainly plenty to write about.

9 responses to “Why I don’t need a pet pig to write a book

  1. Great post. Thank you so much for sharing. You have an excellent writing style here. It really shows. Have a great day.

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  2. Can’t wait for the book!

  3. Have you seen the mini potbelly pigs? They only get up to 40 lbs or so. I’ve been begging for one for years, but so far, no luck!

    • I saw something about micro-potbellies when I was surfing the Internet. Must be the same thing. 40 pounds is a little more manageable than 140.

      Maybe you should get one first and let me know how it goes. I am definitely more follower than leader.

  4. I could see it – totally. But then yeah, you’d have to have that pig forever and ever. Maybe you could get an acting pig to pretend it lives with you but goes home at the end of the day or whenever you need a break. Just thinking out loud here. 🙂

    • Pigs live for 20 years or so. That is a huge commitment. The kids are only allowed to live here until they are 18. An acting pig would be great. At the end of the day, she could pack up her piggy stuff and take a cab to her real home. I’ll have to look into that.

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