And This Little Piggy Cried ... "Meeowww"

By Jeanne Moseley

At 5:00 am, my husband checked the (highly humane) animal trap for signs of its intended prize. "No luck this morning," he reported as he gently woke me. I smiled, thanking him for his diligence. Little did he know about the events during the night, and probably he was better off not knowing for a while.

I first saw our uninvited backyard guest about 10 days ago, but it took me almost a week to convince anyone that we did, indeed, have a black pig living amongst us.

Our backyard is a place where many critters collect and take pleasure in a harmonious life together. Our "boys," as I affectionately refer to the outdoor cats, pretty much reign over this territory, and as long as newcomers don't bother the boys, they're of no worry to me.

However, this pig has seriously disrupted the accord our backyard creatures have come to enjoy, and I had become acutely aware it was time for some sort of action on my part.

I first called a few neighbors to make sure this wasn't someone's school project we were dealing with, and then finally called our city's animal control division. At my report, they quickly whipped back at me, "Are you sure it's a pig?" There's no doubt in my mind that from that point on, I became known as "that lady with the pig in her yard."

Just a few hours after that, I saw the pig digging in the middle of our yard, so I decided it was time for a little chat. Anyone who knows me at all won't find it hard to believe that I hoped the pig and I could connect on some soul level.

"Listen," I said, "things could get pretty bad for you around here, and I don't mean you any harm. ... So could you just go back to where you came from?" He stopped, looked right at me and proceeded to continue his digging. He didn't appear interested in any negotiating.

And so the trap was set. In all our years, we've never set a trap for any animal and I made darn sure this would not cause the pig or any living creature any harm. Food was placed inside the large, long, metal cage and we went to bed confident this would be the pig's last night with us.

During the night, the trap became the temporary home for two possums, one raccoon and my favorite cat, Buster (who would eat anything even if it meant spending the night in a steel cage). I know all of this because my daughter and I kept careful watch through the wee hours of the morning and kept freeing the unintended captives.

Today, with "pig news" making its way around the neighborhood, I've learned it's not just a pig. It's a "Pot-bellied Vietnamese pig" or it's possibly a "boar," a "feral," a "wild hog." Recommendations range from contacting a rescue group to planning a neighborhood barbecue.

As for me, I'm trying to remember the name of a woman who was seated next to me at a local banquet. An out-of-town guest, she was recognized by the Master of Ceremonies as a "Champion Hog Caller," whereupon she immediately stood and did just that!

She and I exchanged business cards. Now, where did I put that?

Copyright ©2001 Jeanne Moseley