All right. I've put it off long enough. The shock that there's a pig roaming my house as I speak has ALMOST worn off, at least enough for me to begin regaling the inquiring masses as to what cohabitation with a pig is like. As much as I'd like to think otherwise, I think my legion of fans is more interested in the pig's life than mine.
So, what have I learned thus far? Well, I've learned that everything is a snack if you look at it right. (Bubba and I have even fashioned that into a song we sing to Orville when he's on the food warpath). Dry pig food? Of course. 'Mato? Sure. Crabapples? Mmmhmm. Cat food? Forbidden fruit. But it doesn't stop there, see. Phone books? Delicious. Mail? Heavenly. X-Box games? Crunchy. You get the idea. But here's the kicker, apparently, where it DOES stop is with....drumroll please............carrots. We'd been giving him these little cherry tomatoes, which he ravaged. Great, but a little pricey. So we figure, let's get him going with carrots. Crunchy, cheap, non-fattening. Perfect. Except the sonofabitch doesn't like them. He begrudgingly ate them once, then decided, "no thanks." I said, "Bubba, is this some kind of a sick pig joke? Wasn't he eating his own litter just last week? Didn't he just get finished trying to eat my bare feet like they were Vienna sausages? And now he has STANDARDS?!? Now he's a gourmand?!?! Unbelievable.
I have to reiterate, we should all be as passionate about SOMETHING in life as Orville is towards food. He literally smacks his lips CONSTANTLY. It's a Chinese water torture sometimes. And when there's no food afoot, he improvises on paper or whatever else is handy, as though he needs to keep his chops up (pun intended) or something. And when there's no paper, he literally, chews the air. Like, just in case some food happens by his mouth, he doesn't want to take any chances about missing it.
We have a mild-mannered cat in the house, Jack Sprat. I'm happy to say that those two have been able to tolerate each other just fine, and in fact, are now beginning to engage in some traditional "cat and pig" style rough house. Still, Jack-o will assert his position as the incumbent once in a while. Like, the other day, he very brazenly decided to use Orville's litter box, right smack in front of him. As if to say, "Yeah, I see you looking at me. So what? What'chu gonna do about it? Lest you forget who is the H.C.I.C. around here, beeyatch!" What's also funny is the two clear factions in my house now. Jack is just like his dad. Laid back in the cut, quiet, low maintenance. Orville, is just like his momma. Strong-willed, determined, feisty, and both want what they want, when they want it.
So, what have I learned thus far? Well, I've learned that everything is a snack if you look at it right. (Bubba and I have even fashioned that into a song we sing to Orville when he's on the food warpath). Dry pig food? Of course. 'Mato? Sure. Crabapples? Mmmhmm. Cat food? Forbidden fruit. But it doesn't stop there, see. Phone books? Delicious. Mail? Heavenly. X-Box games? Crunchy. You get the idea. But here's the kicker, apparently, where it DOES stop is with....drumroll please............carrots. We'd been giving him these little cherry tomatoes, which he ravaged. Great, but a little pricey. So we figure, let's get him going with carrots. Crunchy, cheap, non-fattening. Perfect. Except the sonofabitch doesn't like them. He begrudgingly ate them once, then decided, "no thanks." I said, "Bubba, is this some kind of a sick pig joke? Wasn't he eating his own litter just last week? Didn't he just get finished trying to eat my bare feet like they were Vienna sausages? And now he has STANDARDS?!? Now he's a gourmand?!?! Unbelievable.
I have to reiterate, we should all be as passionate about SOMETHING in life as Orville is towards food. He literally smacks his lips CONSTANTLY. It's a Chinese water torture sometimes. And when there's no food afoot, he improvises on paper or whatever else is handy, as though he needs to keep his chops up (pun intended) or something. And when there's no paper, he literally, chews the air. Like, just in case some food happens by his mouth, he doesn't want to take any chances about missing it.
We have a mild-mannered cat in the house, Jack Sprat. I'm happy to say that those two have been able to tolerate each other just fine, and in fact, are now beginning to engage in some traditional "cat and pig" style rough house. Still, Jack-o will assert his position as the incumbent once in a while. Like, the other day, he very brazenly decided to use Orville's litter box, right smack in front of him. As if to say, "Yeah, I see you looking at me. So what? What'chu gonna do about it? Lest you forget who is the H.C.I.C. around here, beeyatch!" What's also funny is the two clear factions in my house now. Jack is just like his dad. Laid back in the cut, quiet, low maintenance. Orville, is just like his momma. Strong-willed, determined, feisty, and both want what they want, when they want it.
Lastly for now, one plus to having the Big O around is that he's indirectly contributed to my losing around 10 lbs. since I've been out here. See, he spends his time going back and forth between the kitchen and the living room. And if there is ANY kitchen activity brewing, he makes sure he's present so he can get a piece of the action. As such, I have to think twice now before I venture to the fridge. "Do I REALLY want to make a grilled cheese samich, at the expense of having my toes nibbled on for the next 10 minutes?" Plus, I have to say, my pork consumption is down considerably, so I guess he's really paying dividends to my health. Now, if he could just stop tempting me by standing by that fire...
3 comments:
that's a funny friggin' post scuba.
can't you give Orville something to chew on?....like a piggy bone or something like that? wouldn't a bone you give to dogs do just fine and give him better breath as well?
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