The Pig in the Kitchen

The children named the pig Arnold. That he was named after the pig on the TV show, Green Acres didn’t make my father any happier. His father had been named Arnold. As time went on, however, even my father had to admit that Arnold was one smart porker. He recognized his name and came when called. But, perhaps, the greatest feat of intellectual prowess came the night it snowed. It had been a frosty 20 degrees that night. Carmon awoke early and went outside to check on the livestock which, at that time, consisted of several New Zealand Giant rabbits and Arnold. The rabbits lived in pens in a partially enclosed rabbit house out back. The bottom half of its wall was made of wood; the top half was made of wire screening. Arnold had the run of the yard during the day, but at nighttime, he slept at one end of the rabbit house, under the rabbits’ pens. This gave him some protection from the wind and cold, but it was no match for below freezing temperatures and snow. Carmon wasn’t too worried about the rabbits. After all, each hutch had a ramp that led to a nesting box deep under the ground. But a little sleek pig was another story entirely. What had the cold done to Arnold? The gray light of dawn was just giving way to pale pink when all of us rushed out into the yard to see what the freeze had done. Carmon unlocked the rabbit house door and we all ran in. Sure enough, there wasn’t a rabbit in sight. However, there wasn’t a pig in sight either! Where was Arnold? He had no warm nesting box in which to snuggle. Frantically, the children called out his name. A reassuring oink reached our ears, but we still couldn’t see him. The children called his name again, louder. Again, we heard the oink. Following the direction of the sound, Carmon shined a flashlight toward the back of the shed. The only sight that met our gaze was a stack of empty rabbit feed sacks stored there. Then one of the feed sacks moved and a tiny snout appeared under its edge. There was Arnold, warm and snug. He had dug out a pig-sized hollow in the dirt at the back of the shed where the ground was sandy. He had then methodically shredded several empty paper grain sacks into pieces no larger than a half-inch square, leaving two bags whole. After this was complete, he settled himself in his homemade bed, fluffing the shredded paper around him until all but his head was covered. Finally, he had dragged the two intact grain sacks over the hole, covering every inch of his body except for the end of his snout, which he’d left free for breathing! . . . Arnold wasn’t just smart; he was sociable. He loved the children and would follow them around the yard just like a puppy. He liked to have his belly scratched, and when he grew to be quite large, he could become a real nuisance about that. After all of that, it was hard to keep him “down on the farm” after all that attention! Looking back on it, I truly believe that Arnold didn’t know he was a pig. I’m sure he thought he was one of the kids and his mamma just dressed him funny! One of the funniest things would never have happened had I not decided to go back to college. I had always wanted to be a teacher and so despite having a home, husband, and children to care for, I enrolled at the university. I got home from my classes about the same time the children got home from theirs. It was difficult to get any studying done with four children underfoot, so I would often get up at 2:00 in the morning to do my homework. I got a lot accomplished this way, but it did mean that I needed to do some careful editing of any papers written in this manner. It’s always amazing to me how awful an idea can look in the cold light of day when it seemed brilliant at 2:00 A.M.! I was most appreciative when my friend, Vera, volunteered to go over my papers with me. Vera was a former high school English teacher who edited with the proverbial fine-tooth comb. That day, Vera had offered to drop by and do some editing at my home. I rushed around, making sure that the living room was presentable, although the rest of the house would never have passed muster. I had instructed the children to play out back, with the older ones watching the younger ones. All was going well, I thought. I hadn’t, however, counted on Arnold. Vera was well into the paper, going over changes she was recommending, when we both heard a low, snuffling sound coming from the kitchen followed by a loud crash. My heart sank. I knew what – or should I say who? – it was. Sure enough, the children had slipped into the kitchen for Kool-Aid and one of them had left the back door open just a crack. That was all Arnold needed. Since he was the only kid left without a glass of Kool-Aid, he had decided to take matters into his own hooves. When I heard the crash, I covered my eyes and groaned. Although I didn’t want to do it, I walked over to the door between the living room and kitchen and cautiously peeked in. There was Arnold in the kitchen happily snuffling up the spilt Kool-Aid and licking the pitcher clean. The thing that made it the most embarrassing was that Vera was the only person in my house that day who found a pig in the kitchen to be anything out-of-the-ordinary. Around our house it was just another day.