Pig

Pig had always stood there, on guard so to speak. At first anyway, then time took its toll and ‘Pig’, as he became known, began to disappear beneath the ivy which grew down from the fence and along the wall.

Left by its previous owner we inherited Pig, then painted pink, with even darker pink eyes. Sniffed by cats and sprayed by every passing tom, Pig stood his ground and never complained.

It was a common sight, our Tibby, like Pig, always on guard. Out the catflap, his first morning stop and last one at night, Pig was his! In their nappies our daughters kissed Pig too, and look at them now, bug and allergy free, but times have changed and they pull our grandchildren away.

‘Are you taking the pig?’

‘The Pig?’

‘Yes, the Pig’ the lady asked, as she took a walk around our garden having viewed our house. Poor Pig, forgotten by us, his nose poking though, the only clue he was there.

‘Why, would you like him to stay?’  my wife asked, as our faces coloured with guilt for abandoning Pig to his fate.

The would-be buyer looked us up and down and replied ‘I rather like pigs. I’m a vegetarian’. As if to build a bridge my wife said ‘Our eldest daughter rescues chickens from battery farms’.

‘How kind’  the lady said.

The lady and her husband went away and others came to see our house, but no one noticed Pig again. Two weeks later the offer came, £10,000 less than we had asked. First affront that someone should value our home so low, then resignation before our stubborn side kicked in.

‘Who did you say? Mrs Waxwell-Jones?’

The name meant nothing until we asked the estate agent for a little more information. ‘Tall thin woman, grey hair, always in wellington boots’.

‘The pig lady’ we said in unison into the speakerphone.

‘We’ll call you back in a few minutes’ we promised.

 

It didn’t take that long. Pig was now clean and proud, upon the wall. No sign of flaking paint. His eyes touched up, he stared right back and when we did his mouth, I’m sure I heard him say ‘About time too’. 

Ring ring, tring tring, ‘Hello, tell Mrs Waxwell-Jones we would like the asking price’ and back another offer came. This time £5,000 less. ‘I know what’ I heard my wife say ‘she can have the pig and we get our asking price’ and so it was agreed.

 

Pig had saved the day!

Robert Howard, 5 June 2021

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