After last week’s story about cooking pigs at my house the following came in from Frances with this message: I thought you might enjoy this true story of my little crippled pig. I am 89 years old, but I still have a good memory of helping my daddy with Christmas that year.
MY LITTLE WHITE PIG
When I was a child of only 16 we had a neighbor who was very mean. He owned a big white mamma hog. He also had a black dog. I heard a loud noise coming from his barn. I ran down the road, I didn’t mean no harm. I climbed the fence to see what was the matter.
His sow gave birth to 12 little pigs, a real litter. They all seemed OK except for one that was kind of small. I looked closer and saw the little one was crippled. That put her life in somewhat of a pickle.
You see, the farmer was not about to let her live. She was so little and crippled, she had nothing to give. I said, “Oh, please don’t take her life you’ll see — if you don’t want her, please give her to me.” He put her into an oatmeal box and I took her home and gave mother a shock.
I said, “Mother, don’t worry she is only a pig. If you give me a bottle and some milk, she will soon grow big.”
I fed her real good as the days passed. She soon learned to love me and didn’t want to stray. So finally one morning on a nice sunny day, I went to feed her and to play. To my surprise, her feet had become straight as could be, she wasn’t a cripple anymore. She followed me around like any other pet, I was so glad I saved her life and on that you can bet.
She grew and grew and became a fine hog and she was a better pet than any fine dog. Then one day, I had to finish school and go away to work. She was very unhappy because she couldn’t go with me. So Daddy took over and finished my task. I fed her well, and she became a big hog at last. I wondered what now would be her fate.
Daddy said, “Now, don’t you worry, you’ll just have to wait, wait and see what the future will be. I’ll take very good care of her, you’ll see.” So she finally had three little pigs of her own. And I wished so much I could take them to my home. I lived in an apartment in a big city, and you know that’s no place for pigs to be.
So we had to think of the future and not the past. Daddy finally said, “We’ve got to sell your hogs, honey. This is the way I can get you some money.”
So I said, “Daddy if this is what you have to do for me, I’ll live with this and be happy, you’ll see.”
I finally had some money in the bank, and I knew I had my little crippled pig to thank. Now her fate was still to come.
This was to be a wrap quiet bum. She started to like the chickens quite well; she chased them down and started to kill. We didn’t have a choice, she had to be sold. By now, the weather had turned quite cold. I pondered the question, and I thought and thought, I’ll give my family a gift that doesn’t have to be bought.
So I wrote my daddy a letter that day and this is what I had to say, “I’ll give you my hog as a family gift, she’ll help to feed your family through the winter, you’ll see, and that will be your Christmas gift from me.”
So on one cold, winter day, he killed my hog and dressed her out and I guess that’s what life is all about. He made the best sausage and ham and sent some to me. But I couldn’t eat a bite because she was my pet.
It makes you wonder in today’s world if our children will recall giving their parents permission to sell their old televisions, cellphones or video game consoles to “make ends meet?”