Two weeks ago Marlene, the horse trainer on the ranch, got a call from a friend with a problem. One of his sows had given birth to a litter, and had, just two days later, stepped on one of the piglets, tearing a two-inch deep gash in its shoulder and ripping some of the skin from his leg. Her friend had stapled the skin back on the leg, but the two day-old piglet could no longer stay with its mom, and without someone to care for it, would die.
Marlene has a soft spot for pigs, and she took one look at the little guy and couldn't refuse. So we obtained a little, injured pig and all began taking turns checking in on him and bottle feeding him during the day. The first two days were rough. We weren't sure if he'd survive, but after working him into a consistent feeding schedule (once every hour to half-hour) and getting him some good antibiotics, he started to come round.
At first, Marlene was reluctant to get attached. She already keeps one six-hundred pound pig as a pet, and wasn't sure she could handle another. But just a few days with the little fellow's complete dependency, and she and her boyfriend were hooked. The piglet got a name, and a permanent home.
When Marlene agreed to raise the pig, however, she neglected to think of her upcoming vacation, a four day getaway to her close friends' wedding vow renewal. With the piglet needing almost constant attention, she needed someone to look after him while she was gone. And I just happen to be a sucker for those kinds of things.
Monday morning at work, I was officially put in charge of raising a baby pig. He stayed with me at work, then came home with me in the evenings, occasionally taking a trip to the back yard, but otherwise spending his time in my basement. Monday night I got up several times to feed him, 2:45 and 5:00 AM included.
But something strange happened on Tuesday afternoon. When I brought him to work and unloaded him into the office at the barn, some switch somewhere inside him flipped, and the previously languid pig became a little tornado of curiosity and energy. At just 13 days old he'd turned a corner, from infancy to adolescence. Evidently, pigs grow up fast.
Although I managed to rig up a system for him to feed himself at night, to prevent waking up every few hours and trekking downstairs to heed his grunts and squeals, nothing would prevent the little bugger from going wild during the day-- especially between noon and 7:00 PM, when I'm typically at work.
The pig continued to improve over the four days I watched him. His wounds filled in and began to scab over, his energy level surged, he became more mobile and more adventuresome, started exploring things with his mouth, and must have grown at least an inch. When I started watching him on Monday morning, he slept and ate, slept and ate. This afternoon, when I returned him to Marlene, he hadn't slept at all in four hours, and instead had been following me around the barn all afternoon while I prepared the grain rations and sweet feed for the horses, cleaned out the office, washed the rugs, and organized the tack room.
Marlene was shocked at how much he'd changed in the four short days she'd been gone, and more than a little jealous when he came running for me instead of her when she called.
I enjoyed watching him learn and investigate new things. It was fun to walk out of his sight line and then snort at him, to hear him grunt wildly in return. And he's absolutely adorable when he twists and jumps and roots and plays. But I was ready to return him to Marlene.
I'm not (and may never be) ready for kids. Instead, I get the benefit of being the little guy's "cool aunt." I get to tussle with him and watch him play while I'm at work, then leave him to Marlene for the rest-- feeding, training, and messes included.
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