Illustration by Jan Igoe
When friends recommend a pet sitter, you feel safe leaving your beloved canine companions with her.
I check pet sitter credentials as carefully as I used to vet my kids’ babysitters. Of course, that was mostly out of concern (or fear) for the sitter’s safety. My pets have never lassoed anyone to a chair and called my favorite restaurant to have me paged the way my daughter did. She wouldn’t specify why the sitter couldn’t come to the phone. She only said, “She’s tied up.” It didn’t sound metaphorical.
But dogs don’t do that—one of the many reasons I prefer them to humans. When I went away for two weeks, my pups had to stay home. So I called Milly, who came with ample referrals and testimonials. But somewhere along the line, mild-mannered Milly mistook herself for Super Woman and accepted three pet sitting jobs at the same time.
A few days after I left, a friend called to say my dogs were spotted running wild on the golf course, my back door was wide open and there were ashtrays full of cigarette butts in every room. Being thousands of miles away, I had to scramble to secure the house, find a safe place for my dogs and fire the caped crusader—all by phone. When I returned, painted paw prints covered my sofa, the place smelled like a bonfire and there was substantial evidence that the dogs hadn’t been walked very much before their escape.
Deranged pet sitters aside, dogs have it much easier around here than Pork Chop, a potbellied pig who has never gotten loose or ventured anywhere near a tee. He walks politely on a leash, doesn’t bark and never bothered anyone until the HOA concluded farm animals were overrunning the neighborhood.
Pork Chop has to go, the board declared. Immediately, neighbor turned against neighbor as they staked out positions on the swine invasion. The community has a website that gives everyone a platform to help their neighbors and make referrals, but it’s also useful for calling each other names and trading insults. People who never knew there was a Pork Chop suddenly formed irrevocable opinions about him and were deeply offended by anyone who disagreed, even though their extensive pig knowledge probably consists of ordering a side of bacon with breakfast.
Potbellied pigs are said to be sensitive, smart and perfectly happy in the house. You can train them to use a litter box. (So far, pigs sound way better than dogs.) Although they love to root for food, any pile of balls, newspapers, stuffed animals, or hay will make them happy as a pig in that other stuff.
But the HOA sees pigs as gateway animals that will inevitably lead to herds of Clydesdales, dairy cows, off-leash chickens and possibly giraffes running loose. Their position was clear: Pigs are swine. Swine is livestock, and livestock is strictly prohibited. His owners say their little Pork Chop is not swine, since he’s neutered, domesticated and only weighs 100-something pounds, which is teensy as pigs go.
Pork Chop’s adoring family would rather move than lose him. Rumor has it they’re already searching for swine-friendly zoning and neighbors who won’t suggest relocating their potbellied pet to a barbecue grill. When it’s time for a pet sitter, they can ask fellow pig people for recommendations, preferably vegans.
Just no capes, please.
Jan Igoe doesn’t care about captive pigs living under the radar in the suburbs. She’s just worried about all the cranky people running around off leash. Share the laughs at HumorMe@SCLiving.coop.