Tails and Tiding: Peace Snout

There is no easy way to say this, our pig died. Tofu, the fairest lady of the land, suddenly fell ill and passed away last week, leaving all of us humans feeling somewhat shocked and bereft. It was a hard week, but I refuse to dwell on that one slice of her life, when the rest of what we got to enjoy was so magical.

It all started when Henry wanted a pig. I searched on craigslist and petfinder for a potbelly in need of a home. We came across a young male for sale, by the name of Bacon. We were looking for a she-pig, so we moved on, adopting from an animal shelter in Washington. Still, Henry was inspired by Bacon's name. He decided the vegetarian's equivalent pig moniker should be, Tofu.

She charmed all who met her. She feared no dog. She ate with gusto and napped like she was getting paid to do it. When I'd open the back door of the house, she usually made her way to the gate of her yard, grunting softly. Even if I was busy, I made a point of bringing her something to eat, and giving the top of her head a little scratch. She was my friend. Strange, but true. She also loved to spend time with Geza when he worked in the yard. She spoke in low grunts, circling him and eventually flopping over in the dust for a nice sun-drenched bellyrub. Thomas, George, and Mae also visited her frequently, bringing a snack, and a brush, for quality time. She was always gentle and comical.

She loved her boy, Henry, most of all. When her goat companion, Inez, passed away, Henry slept next to her, in a straw pile in her stall, for the first couple of nights. From her, he learned real responsibility. He learned to get up every morning, not because anyone is forcing you to, but because you love a pig who is waiting for you to feed her breakfast. He considered her feelings, and stepped up to the plate when it was time to train her, weigh her, and call the vet. She was his pig.

They say death is a part of life, and they're right.  I know it's a part of life, but it's one of my least favorite parts. I can't help it. This death was rather sudden and confusing, so it feels wrong, somehow. I know some take comfort in a belief that death only affects our earthly bodies, and that an unseen part of us lives forever after we pass away. I am not one of those people. I take comfort in the fact that Tofu was returned to the dirt, where she will feed the flora and fauna of the soil. She munched the grass as a pig, and now that her life is over, she'll become the grass, and the bugs, and the birds

I'll always wish we had more time together. That sadness may be inevitable, but suddenly saying good-bye to someone you cherish has its purpose. Let this remind us that it is important to lavish loved ones with affection, to forgive petty grievances with others, and to hug our chickens. Carpe Chickens.