You’re probably smart enough to recognize this as a manipulative tactic, and normally I’m smart enough, too. But I was not letting that pig go. So without thinking it through, I told my former classmate that I’d take the animal. I gave her my office address, and we agreed to meet there in the morning.
I knew nothing about mini pigs. I didn’t know what they ate; I had no idea how big they got. Once I started doing some Internet research, I found a few assertions that there’s no such thing as a mini pig, but I was blinded by my sudden obsession and my faith in my one-time friend.
It seemed this pig would grow to be about 32 kilograms, maximum. That was pretty close to the size of Shelby, our pit bull–terrier mix. That seemed reasonable.
She was tiny—maybe 20 centimetres from tip to tail. The poor thing had chipped pink nail polish on her little hooves and a tattered sequined cat collar around her neck. She looked pathetic yet lovable.
My former classmate said the pig was six months old and spayed and that she’d had her for a week, having gotten her from a breeder through Kijiji. I watched the woman handle the pig, and I could tell there was zero attachment.
I’d met the pig 12 minutes ago, and I already knew she needed me. I had only a few hours to figure out what to tell Derek. (Do you have cute animals as part of your family? These readers certainly do!)
In the car on the way home, the pig sat in the front passenger seat, skittish and disoriented. I talked to her and petted her while we took back roads to our house and I planned my emergency “please forgive me for getting a pig” dinner for Derek (his favourite: fresh burgers with cheese and bacon, and homemade garlic fries).
The cats were their typical curious‐but‐uninterested selves when faced with the pig. The dogs are excitable around baby animals and children, so they whined and jumped. I held onto the pig securely and let them sniff her a little before I hid her in the office. I figured I’d better make sure Derek was in a good mood before springing the new arrival on him.
Derek stood in the doorway like a statue. Every emotion other than happiness flashed across his face. It didn’t take more than a half‐second for him to realize what I’d done and what I now wished to do.
He was furious. He went on about how irresponsible I was; he insisted there was no more room in the house. The only positive thing I could say was, “She’s a mini pig! She’ll stay small!”
I knew that what I’d done was wrong, but I really hoped I could smooth things over. I loved Derek and I loved our life together, and I truly believed he’d come around.
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