☆ February 14, 2017
Yesterday afternoon, while driving home, I saw a 500-pound pig walking down the road. I pulled over, how could I not? I wanted to meet this giant pig. She was facing away from me as I approached her, rooting in the ditch. As I got closer, about ten feet away, she turned around. Her eyes were tiny squints – it looked like they were closed – and she opened her mouth and started snorting at me.
I don’t have any pig experience – I don’t know their body language or their noises – but this didn’t seem like an aggressive series of snorts. It was more like the intense chatter of someone who hasn’t had anyone to talk to in a while. She began walking towards me, and as she crossed the lane, I said a little a prayer: “I hope this is a friendly pig!” She was three times my size, and I did not want to get steamrolled by a pig.
She got closer, and I reached out my hand, and she snorted her way under my tentative fingers. I stroked her head. Her hair was sparse and so long and coarse! It was like petting a door mat, the kind designed to get mud off your boots. She wiggled closer and I rubbed her shoulders. Her back was as wide and flat as a coffee table. Her tail was a curlicue and she shook it – rather, wagged it like a dog – when I rubbed her back. I contemplated sitting on her and I contemplated pignapping her but did neither.
I stood in the muddy road and pet her for as long as she let me. I marveled at her strange pink body. I told her she was beautiful and she snorted “I know” and then wandered off, rooting for food.