The True Adventures Of Wilbur the Pig Chapter 3 " The Great Escape"

After we shut Wilbur in his room for the night, we let the dogs up from the basement. Immediately they all caught the scent of our newest “child”. Even Tony showed an interest. Tony, was a large German Shepard, that looked more wolf, than dog. In his younger days, Tony was a mean old junk yard dog who was dumped on Rhea by her eldest son, Gerry. Tony was so mean that Rhea didn’t know what to do with him; but in time her love broke him down. Now Tony was a shadow of his former self, old, going blind, with badly arthritic hind legs. In spite of all this, he joined the other dogs checking out this new, and very different smell.

We figured we would let the dogs get used to the smell of Wilbur over night before the big introduction. They all showed a keen interest, but none of them got overly excited, not even Toby. Toby, I knew, was the wild card in this whole equation. Toby was the most high strung of the group, the youngest, and the hardest to control. When Toby got excited, not only did he not listen too well, but he would begin to bark uncontrollably. Well, you could call it a bark, but it was more of a loud cross between a bay, and a bawl; like AROOOO, AROOOO. Since the dogs seemed to be adjusting to the new smell well, we went to bed that night hopeful that Wilbur’s coming out party with the dogs the next morning would go well.

The next morning we looked in on Wilbur, and were pleasantly surprised. Wilbur was standing in the corner by his blanket, looking warily at us. The surprising part was that he had used the newspaper for its intended purpose. For a piglet raised in a barn, I was impressed. This would not be the last time we would be impressed with Wilbur’s intelligence. I walked over to him, and he tried to get away, but with his poor footing on the hard wood floors, I had no problem gathering him up. He started his wailing, and, his smelling. I brought him out of his room gripped tightly in my arms. All of the dogs showed an interest, but Toby went ballistic. I don’t know if it was Wilbur’s wail, or his smell, or both that set Toby off, but his tail shot straight up, and he started baying. Here I was, trying to hold on to a scared, squirming, wailing, smelly pig; while at the same time pushing Toby away, and yelling at him to shut up. Fortunately, Rhea was quick to grab his collar, and pull him away. After a couple of minutes we managed to get everyone (including myself) calmed down.

I gave each dog a chance to sniff the pig, while still holding the pig. I carefully set Wilbur down on the floor, the two younger dogs came over to check him out closer, but did not try to hurt him. Wilbur was still a little scared, but was unable to do much on the slippery (for him) floors.

We took Wilbur out to the kitchen to feed him something. We really didn’t know what to give him, but it didn’t matter because Wilbur was more than happy to eat anything, and everything we gave him. When Wilbur was eating he forgot all about his fear of us. He just ate and wagged his tail continuously. Contrary to cartoon pigs, pot belly pigs do not have a cork screw tail (something else is cork screwed, but we’ll get to that later), and unless they are alarmed, or asleep, it is in constant motion.

We decided to let Wilbur outside to get used to his new home. Our yard was open in the front, but we had a fence around the backyard. The front of the fence was your typical white picket fence, while the sides, and the back were a blockade style. Wilbur was rather small, about the size of a child’s bowling ball, but I was sure he could not get between the pickets.

Wilbur loved the back yard. He just used his little piggy snout to grouse around looking for grubs, and anything else he could eat. He was happier than a pig in the proverbial poop, grousing around with his cute little tail just swinging back and forth. I went off to work that afternoon confident that everything would be ok.

I came home from work about five hours later (remember due to 9/11 I was only working part time), and everything was ok. Wilbur was still snouting everything, and the dogs were not bothering him. While I was checking up on events out back, Rhea asked me to bring Wilbur in for supper. I went out back hoping to get Wilbur while he was preoccupied with his grousing, but as soon as I got within a few feet of him, he took off! On the hard wood floors inside, I had no problem catching him, but outside on grass was a whole different story. It was unbelievable how fast that little son of a gun could run! I chased after him, soon joined by Toby who wanted to get in on the fun. We ran all over the back yard chasing Wilbur. Toby was as fast as Wilbur, but Wilbur could cut on a dime and eluded him until we finally had him cornered between the house, and the picket fence. Frantic, Wilbur tried to push between the pickets, but could not fit through, but just before I could grab him, the nail holding the slat in place gave way, and Wilbur was gone. Wilbur took off across the front lawn until he reached the street. When he hit the street, he made a right hand turn, and down the road he went! By the time I got to the street, he was just a blur disappearing on the horizon.

To be continued….

Wilbur and Us...Chapter 6...."I've Got You Under My Skin"

If nothing else it was a huge relief to get Wilbur back. The whole time he was gone all I could think about was how angry and disappointed that lady on the farm would be with us for losing the pig. Well we got him back, now the question was how do we keep him? Putting a collar on him was not possible because his neck is so thick, it is bigger than his head, so Rhea and I went to the pet store and found a halter for him. The only halter we could find in his pint size was a cute little pink one. We brought it home, and Rhea left it up to Jeff, and me to put it on Wilbur. Needless to say, this was quite the chore. After a half hour of fighting, and listening to Wilbur’s deafening cries, we finally had the halter on and adjusted. He looked really cute in his hot pink halter; for all of five minutes. That’s how long it took little Hoodini pig to slip out of it. I don’t know if his male ego was challenged by the pink color, or if it just bound him in the wrong places, but Wilbur would have nothing to do with that halter. The halter was a big waste of twenty dollars; twenty dollars we could have (and in retrospect, should have), used to get him fixed.

There was one thing that we never had a problem with concerning Wilber, and that was getting him to eat. Wilbur loved to eat! “I can see why they call them pigs.” I remarked, watching Wilbur anxiously, and greedily devouring anything, and everything he was offered. Wilbur could eat 24/7, and practically did, as Rhea lavished love, attention, and food, on her little pig. The kitchen quickly became Wilbur’s favorite room of our house, as he followed Rhea around constantly looking for a hand out. I got to admit, he was so cute; his little tail swishing back and forth like he didn’t have a care in the world; and the smacking sounds he made with each mouthful. It was easy to fall in love with that little son of a bitch. Even the dogs adjusted quickly to Wilbur, even if they were a little jealous of him

Wilbur quickly lost his fear of us, though he never liked the idea of being picked up. I think he was just too proud to be picked up as if he were a common house cat. Wilbur was special, and he knew it. He was also spoiled; very spoiled. When Wilbur wasn’t eating, he was getting loved and stroked from Rhea. Turns out dogs aren’t the only pets that like to have their bellies rubbed. Wilbur adores having his belly rubbed; while “mommy” coos to him calling him her “pumpkin pie”.

Come to think of it, the dogs weren’t the only ones jealous of Wilbur; so was I. Heck, I would love to have been fed treats all day, and having my belly rubbed too. Well, at least I was still getting some attention as “the great white hunter” that brought the little game home. Besides, it isn’t very manly to beg for affection.

After a couple of days we figured Wilbur had adjusted enough to let him back outside. The important thing was not to chase him and get him alarmed so he would run away. When it was time to bring him in, Wilbur could easily be lured into the house with a banana, or a slice of bread. It was also getting colder outside, and it wasn’t long before we would find Wilbur waiting on the top step waiting to be let in with no troubles.

After a couple days we decided that Wilbur was ready to be a full fledged member of the family. We kept his news paper in the spare bedroom for the night time goings, but we moved his blanket into the living room under the coffee table. It was immediately taken over by Dylan, and Toby who were jealous of Wilbur. However when bedtime approached Wilbur was not to be deterred by the two dogs, he simply walked over to his blanket, and wedged himself in between Dylan, and Toby. There they slept, all cozy and warm, and together. What a pretty picture that made! Wilbur was now an accepted member of the family.

But as the winds of winter were fast approaching, so were the winds of change…for Wilbur, and our whole family.

Wilbur and Us....Chapter 5...".A Huntin' We Will Go"

It was a long slow walk back to the house from the boat launch. We were physically beat, and mentally beaten; and I was in a foul mood. We barely had Wilbur for one day, and now he may be gone forever. Jeff was much more optimistic about Wilbur’s chances, “Don’t worry, he won’t freeze to death, he’ll find some warm place to hunker down for the night.” “Well he better,” I replied, “because it’s supposed to get down to 36 and rain all night.”

I thought we should call a war council for after supper, to figure out our strategy, so I sent Jeff out to get us a twelve pack. I always do my best figuring with a cold beer or two, and a shot of bourbon or two. After what I had gone through earlier, there was no question the need for either of the two, and we needed a game plan for tomorrow. There was no way I was going to go out in the cold, and rain tomorrow, and chase that damn pig around. This was starting to get personal. If that pig wasn’t frozen solid tomorrow, his ass was mine!

The war council convened after we finished the dishes; it consisted of Rhea, Jeff, and me. There were two things we had going in our favor; we knew the general area where Wilbur was located, and we had Toby. Wilbur could run, but he could not hide. Jeff brought up the point that when he saw Wilbur run from Toby when they were in the brush, Wilbur stayed on the path, and did not run through the undergrowth. This was a key observation on Jeff’s part, because there would only be Jeff, me, and Toby, around in the morning to get the job done. The general plan was simple, Jeff would take Toby to the far side of the brush along the fence line, and I would stand down the path a ways with Sean’s fishing net. When Toby caught scent of Wilbur, and went after him, the only direction Wilbur could go without running into the creek was towards the parking lot…and me. As he ran past me I would simply lower the net, and bag myself a pig. It was a good plan, and I went to bed confident that we would catch him; if he didn’t freeze to death over night.

When we got up the next morning, I was dismayed to see that the weatherman had actually been correct for once; it was indeed colder than a witch’s left tit, and it was raining. After a couple cups of hot coffee we grabbed Sean’s fishing net, and put Toby on the leash; it was pig hunting time.

Down the road we plodded in our boots, and rain gear. I carried Sean’s net like a rifle over my shoulder, and Jeff had Toby pulling him down the street. I am sure we were a sight to see, fortunately there were no neighbors out to watch us go “fishing” without a pole.

When we got to the boat launch we went into the brush along the creek. Jeff showed me the best place along the path to stand, it was very narrow, and Wilbur would have to stay on that path or he would take a tumble down the slope into the creek. I took up my position and waited for Jeff and Toby to walk down to the fence line. Jeff yelled out to me, “Wilbur’s alright, I can hear his little grunts, he’s looking for food.” We couldn’t see him, but we could hear him. “That’s good”, I thought, “Everything is going to plan.” Jeff, and Toby got in place and Jeff yelled, “Get ready, I’m unloosing the hounds!” He had got that line from the Jerry Seinfeld commercial that was popular at the time. It made me grin, but I braced myself for the charge. It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds before a din of noise arose from the silence, Aroooo! Aroooo! From an excited Toby, followed by a loud Wreeeee! Wreeeee! from a terrified Wilber. “I see them!” shouted Jeff, “Here they come!” I looked up the path, and sure enough they were coming my way as if they had been shot out of a cannon. Wilbur came running by me, and I put the fishing net down. Not only did Wilbur look like he had been shot out of a cannon, but he had the mass of a cannon ball, and he tore right through the fishing net! I was left standing there with my mouth a gape as Wilbur and Toby tore down the path towards the parking lot. I tried to give chase, but in my heavy boots, and rain gear I stood no chance. Once again Wilbur ran around the parking lot and high weeds until Toby was too tired to chase him any longer, then he disappeared back into the brush.

The fishing net was destroyed along with my pride, and self esteem. Wilbur simply refused to make this easy for us, and I was steamed. We walked back down the street to my house. Rhea’s older brother Dickie lived across the street from us in the house that Rhea grew up in. He was outside, and he asked us what we were up to. Dickie got a good laugh at our expense as I told him our story. “Here boys” he said as he went into his garage, “this net can handle a twenty pound pike, and I’m sure it can handle your little pig!” He handed me his fishing net, “Just make sure you bring it back after you haul in your little pig.” I assured him we would, and back down the road we went.

We went back down to the boat launch knowing that we had to get it right this time. Once again I took up my position on the side of the path, while Jeff and Toby went down to the fence line. “Here we go!” Jeff hollered and let Toby loose. “Catching Wilbur, take two!” I thought to myself as we replayed the previous scene. Just as before, Toby found Wilbur in a matter of seconds, and the chase was on! I could hear them long before I could see them, but here they came, Wilbur shooting down the path with Toby nipping at his heels. When Wilbur reached me I lowered the net, but this time when Wilbur ran into it, I released it. Wilbur’s momentum took him and the net about six feet down the path, but the net held, and Wilbur got all tangled up. This was my big chance and I seized it! I pounced on Wilbur, and the net; the prize was mine! Wilbur was shrieking his little head off, fighting to get away, but I was not letting go, not after all we had been through. We triumphantly walked home listening to Wilbur’s chorus of complaints.

Next…Wilbur becomes part of the family.