Wilbur and Us Chapter 7 "Party Animal"

Wilbur quickly learned that he was living high on the hog in our house. Every morning he would get his favorites for breakfast; a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, and a banana. Then through out the day he would get many slices of bread, and anything else we happened to be dining on that day. Wilbur would eat almost anything he was offered. The only things he would refuse would be sour or bitter things, such as dill pickles. Wilbur loved apples, salad, and even meat. He would even devoir pork (he loves pork) when it was given to him. We all thought it ironic, that Wilbur was being a cannibal, and that he never knew it or cared.

We never really thought about the nutritional needs, or the best diet for a pot belly pig. Wilbur was happy, and that was all that mattered. Within two weeks we had to put both Tony, and Bluedoe to sleep, so you would think that our family was starting to shrink. Well the number of our family did shrink, but not the size, because Wilbur was growing…quickly. By the end of October, Wilbur had doubled in size.

At this time I received the notice that my employer (a major airline) of almost twenty years was closing in Rochester, and replacing us with their low cost spin off airline. I had the choice to stay in Rochester and work for them, or to exercise my seniority and to bump into another station. To stay in Rochester, I would have had to take a ten dollar an hour cut in pay, and forfeit all of my health benefits. Since I had twenty years invested with this airline, and could not find a job that would pay as well, Rhea, and I decided we had to move. Since I went to the University of Miami back in the seventies, and adored the warm sunny weather; Rhea and I chose to transfer to Miami, Florida.

We only had three months to get our affairs in order before the station closed. Those three months were a whirl wind of activity as we had to fly down to Miami to find a new house, and to put our present house up for sale. There were many ups and downs, and things were very hectic. We found a nice house just north of Homestead that we loved, but the housing prices were much steeper than in Rochester. I found myself with just two months to raise 16,000 dollars for the closing in early February. Every available penny was getting socked away, and we never got around to get Wilbur fixed. If I knew what we were in store for, I would have begged someone for twenty five dollars.

We had a very nice real-estate lady trying to sell our house. She thought it would be best if we were not at home, and that we took the dogs with us when she showed the house to prospective buyers. That was not a real problem; the problem was what to do with Wilbur? We couldn’t exactly take Wilbur with us for fear that he would get scared and run away, so we decided to put him in the back yard when we left. It was late November by this time, and already getting mighty cold outside, but what were we to do?

On the day of the big showing we packed up Toby, and Dylan, and drove down to the boat launch to let them run around while the house was being shown. In the back sun room, we had a pair of sliding doors that led to the patio, and the pool. The real-estate lady, wanting to show off all the amenities of our house took the prospective buyers to the sun room to show them the back patio, and pool. Imagine their surprise when the real-estate lady threw back the curtains to the sliding doors to discover a very cold pig standing at the top of the steps waiting to be let in! I guess we should have told her about the pig; either way the house eventually got sold.

With just a month before the big move, we decided to have a big “New Year Eve-so long” bash at our house. We decided to have the party in our basement, as that was the only room big enough to accommodate everyone. We decided that this would also be Wilbur’s big coming out party for all of our friends and relatives who had not yet met him. Since Wilbur’s hooves were not designed to go up and down a whole flight of stairs, I had to carry him down. Wilbur weighed about forty pounds at this time, not too heavy for me to lift; and fortunately he gave me only a minimal amount of squirming.

What a bash it was! Everyone was drinking, eating and having a good time; especially Wilbur. Everyone loved to feed Wilbur! Wilbur was in hog heaven as he dined on nachos, pizza, chips, pretzels, and beer. We put a party hat on Wilbur, and he looked very festive going up to all the partiers looking for, and getting hand outs. This pig was definitely a daddy’s boy because he loved beer! He looked like Caesar at a Roman orgy as he made his way around the party feasting and drinking. Eventually the beer got to him, and he started to teeter as he walked among the guests. After a couple of hours of partying Wilbur managed to stagger to a corner of the basement where he collapsed and slept the rest of the night. The next day I went down to bring him back up stairs. Wilbur was so hung over that he did not put up any fight when I picked him up. Oh well, that’s what you get if you want to be a party pig.

Next episode: Road Hog!

Wilbur and Us Chapter 2 "Our Little Piggie In a Blanket

On the way home I used my cell phone to call home. I told my son, Mitchell, that we had the pig and would be home soon. I asked him to round up the dogs and close them up in the basement so we could get Wilbur in the house without the little pig having a heart attack.

We had four dogs, Rhea’s dog Tony was old and had bad hind legs, and her dog Bluedoe, the Rot, had cancer and was sickly (both dogs had to be put to sleep within a couple of weeks). It was my two dogs that I was worried about. Dylan was a black haired mixed breed with a tail that curled up. He was about seven years old and very smart; he loved to escape from our yard and carouse the neighborhood looking for adventure, and females in heat. Toby was a brown haired Shepard, pointer, hound mixed breed. Toby was almost a year old, and very active; and he tagged along with Dylan when they escaped, which was a good thing because he was not smart enough to be able to find his own way home.

When we got home, I told Rhea to give me the pig. My figuring was that if Mitchell screwed up, or somebody let the dogs out, that they would listen to me to back off. As soon as Rhea handed me Wilbur, he had a panic attack. It was little hooves, and snout thrashing all about amid that horrendous ear piercing wail. I lost control of him, and dropped him to the ground. Fortunately, pigs are not like cats that hit the ground feet first, Wilbur went rolling, and before he could get his feet under him I pounced on him! I thought to myself “thank God I got him when I did; because if he eluded my grasp, there was no way I was going to catch him”. I carried him into the house with his wailing ringing in my ears.

The one thing I noticed about this little guy, besides his lung capacity; was his odor. It seems that when pigs are scared, they emit a loud screeching wail like a thousand nails across a chalkboard; and they also emanate a peculiar porcine scent. I brought him into the house thinking “What have I got myself in to? Am I going to have to listen this, and smell this everyday?!”

When we got into the house, the dogs were in the basement, so I relaxed a little. I started petting Wilbur, and baby talked to him, this calmed him down a bit. Rhea went around yelling through the house “I got a pig! Come see my pig!” Mitchell, my step son Sean, and my brother in-law Jeff (who was, and still lives with us) came running to check out the new pig. This of course got Wilbur all excited, and he started shrieking and smelling again. Mitchell smirked in jest, “We can’t even get baby back ribs off of him!” Rhea cried, “We are not eating him!” while I’m thinking to myself “Baby back ribs might not be a bad idea”. I held him while everyone came over and stroked his little head, and eventually he quieted down.

We had a spare bedroom with no furniture in it, so that was to be Wilbur’s room. While I held him, Rhea got a blanket, and laid it in one corner. Then she got some old newspapers and laid them out in the opposite corner. I went into the room carrying Wilbur, and closed the door behind us. I set Wilbur down, and he started to struggle, I let go of him and watched him try to scamper away. That was the first time that I truly noticed that Wilbur was different from the other animals. Wilbur has hooves, not paws, and the hard little hooves were having a difficult time gaining purchase on our hard wood floor. It was like watching a toddler on ice skates, as his feet kept sliding out from under him with every step. I thought he would fall flat on his face as he struggled to get away from me, but he didn’t. He scurried until he reached the wall, then turned and kept going until he hit the next one. When he realized that he was as far away from me as he was going to get, he stopped and looked at me. I walked over to him, he tried to escape but, with his hooves sliding on the hard wood floor he was easy prey. I picked him up, and set him on the blanket to a chorus of his wails. Rhea brought pieces of an apple she had cut up, and set them down next to the blanket. As soon as Wilbur smelled the apple he shut up, went over to the apple, and started eating. Rhea knew that the way to a pig’s heart was through his stomach. We walked out of the room, leaving Wilbur and his apple behind, and closed the door.

After supper we opened the door to check on Wilbur. Wilbur was sound asleep. He had used his snout to arrange the blanket in such a way that he was lying on it but also wrapped up in it. Rhea, and I just stood there smiling, two proud parents of a little piggy in a blanket.

Little did we know that this was the calm before the storm. The next day would lead to a great escape, and little game hunting for Jeff and me.

Wilbur and Us....Chapter 2 "Our Piggy In a Blanket"

On the way home I used my cell phone to call home. I told my son, Mitchell, that we had the pig and would be home soon. I asked him to round up the dogs and close them up in the basement so we could get Wilbur in the house without the little pig having a heart attack.

We had four dogs, Rhea’s dog Tony was old and had bad hind legs, and her dog Bluedoe, the Rot, had cancer and was sickly (both dogs had to be put to sleep within a couple of weeks). It was my two dogs that I was worried about. Dylan was a black haired mixed breed with a tail that curled up. He was about seven years old and very smart; he loved to escape from our yard and carouse the neighborhood looking for adventure, and females in heat. Toby was a brown haired Shepard, pointer, hound mixed breed. Toby was almost a year old, and very active; and he tagged along with Dylan when they escaped, which was a good thing because he was not smart enough to be able to find his own way home.

When we got home, I told Rhea to give me the pig. My figuring was that if Mitchell screwed up, or somebody let the dogs out, that they would listen to me to back off. As soon as Rhea handed me Wilbur, he had a panic attack. It was little hooves, and snout thrashing all about amid that horrendous ear piercing wail. I lost control of him, and dropped him to the ground. Fortunately, pigs are not like cats that hit the ground feet first, Wilbur went rolling, and before he could get his feet under him I pounced on him! I thought to myself “thank God I got him when I did; because if he eluded my grasp, there was no way I was going to catch him”. I carried him into the house with his wailing ringing in my ears.

The one thing I noticed about this little guy, besides his lung capacity; was his odor. It seems that when pigs are scared, they emit a loud screeching wail like a thousand nails across a chalkboard; and they also emanate a peculiar porcine scent. I brought him into the house thinking “What have I got myself in to? Am I going to have to listen this, and smell this everyday?!”

When we got into the house, the dogs were in the basement, so I relaxed a little. I started petting Wilbur, and baby talked to him, this calmed him down a bit. Rhea went around yelling through the house “I got a pig! Come see my pig!” Mitchell, my step son Sean, and my brother in-law Jeff (who was, and still lives with us) came running to check out the new pig. This of course got Wilbur all excited, and he started shrieking and smelling again. Mitchell smirked in jest, “We can’t even get baby back ribs off of him!” Rhea cried, “We are not eating him!” while I’m thinking to myself “Baby back ribs might not be a bad idea”. I held him while everyone came over and stroked his little head, and eventually he quieted down.

We had a spare bedroom with no furniture in it, so that was to be Wilbur’s room. While I held him, Rhea got a blanket, and laid it in one corner. Then she got some old newspapers and laid them out in the opposite corner. I went into the room carrying Wilbur, and closed the door behind us. I set Wilbur down, and he started to struggle, I let go of him and watched him try to scamper away. That was the first time that I truly noticed that Wilbur was different from the other animals. Wilbur has hooves, not paws, and the hard little hooves were having a difficult time gaining purchase on our hard wood floor. It was like watching a toddler on ice skates, as his feet kept sliding out from under him with every step. I thought he would fall flat on his face as he struggled to get away from me, but he didn’t. He scurried until he reached the wall, then turned and kept going until he hit the next one. When he realized that he was as far away from me as he was going to get, he stopped and looked at me. I walked over to him, he tried to escape but, with his hooves sliding on the hard wood floor he was easy prey. I picked him up, and set him on the blanket to a chorus of his wails. Rhea brought pieces of an apple she had cut up, and set them down next to the blanket. As soon as Wilbur smelled the apple he shut up, went over to the apple, and started eating. Rhea knew that the way to a pig’s heart was through his stomach. We walked out of the room, leaving Wilbur and his apple behind, and closed the door.

After supper we opened the door to check on Wilbur. Wilbur was sound asleep. He had used his snout to arrange the blanket in such a way that he was lying on it but also wrapped up in it. Rhea, and I just stood there smiling, two proud parents of a little piggy in a blanket.

Little did we know that this was the calm before the storm. The next day would lead to a great escape, and little game hunting for Jeff and me.