Thursday, September 27, 2007
This Not So Little Piggy
We had a story on FirstNews, Thursday morning, about a gang of rogue pigs! 18 nasty-tempered grunters rampaging through a neighborhood in Connecticut...tearing up lawns and tossing garbage around. As of this writing, they are still being tracked down. The authorities are hoping someone will squeal. Remember the old movie about motorcycle ruffians, The Wild One. Well, just put a snout and curly tale on Brando and you've got the picture. It reminded me of my personal pig memories. (As I get older, everything reminds me of something else. Does that mean my best days are behind me? And, how troubling is it that I actually have "Pig Memories?")
Anyway, one of the first feature stories I ever did had to do with a pig. It was for PM Magazine in Madison, Wisconsin. Many of you probably recall the show, PM Magazine. It was the most popular syndicated show in the country for long time. Until Wheel of Fortune came along. That darn Pat Sajak! Anyway, I was not a host or anything fancy like that, but I did do silly little stories for the Madison version of the program. That's where the pig comes in. (Sounds like a stage direction for the Broadway version of BABE! "Pig enters stage left and begins to sing and dance, energetically and enthusiastically, with cow. Remember, this scene will only work if you really milk it!")
About three and half hours north of Madison, there was a couple living in a nice little house out in the country. They didn't have children but they did have a pet. A pet upon which they lavished love and attention. The pet's name was Spot because he had a big black splotch on his side. Spot was a pig. No, not one of those little pot-bellied kind that were all the rage sometime ago. No, Spot was a real pig. 750 pounds worth of pig. He stood, on spindly little legs, over five feet at his shoulders. Spot lived in the house with this couple. He had his own bedroom with a comfy mattress on the floor and a full-length mirror on the wall...a swine-glass. Apparently, Spot was rather taken with his own reflection. "Mirror. Mirror. On the wall. Who's the prettiest pig of all?" He was very pleasant. You really had to root, or rut, for him. At one point, the couple thought Spot needed a playmate so they bought him a puppy, which they named Porky. Those two creatures loved to tangle with each other. It was a little unfair because of Spot's size and that fact that Spot was a black belt in karate, having been born with powerful pork chops.
Spot would roll out of bed, take a quick inventory in the looking glass: "Snout. Check. Girth. Check. Tail. Check," then stroll down the hall. If a 750 pound anything can actually "stroll." "Lumber" down the hall maybe more accurate. The man of the house had built a trough in the kitchen so Spot could eat with them. Spot liked day-old bread from the town bakery, peanut butter, honey, fruit...oh, who am I kidding. He was a pig. He liked everything. The woman of the house kept Spot clean by using the vacuum. Spot liked to watch TV. His favorite show was a big hit at the time, Hill Street Blues...no joke.
Spot was well behaved, for a pig. (Something said, with some regularity, about me, too.) He knew one little trick. When the couple had friends over to the house, the mister would drop a dollar on the ground. When their guest bent over to pick it up, Spot would...uh...stick his nose in other people's business, so to speak, and lift the guest right off the ground. Now, the couple thought this was delightful and very funny. You know how proud parents can be. Needless to say, they had few if any return visitors.
This couple's story had already been told in the National Enquirer by the time our little TV piece hit the air. That had gotten them calls from pig-lovers around the world. If they could've proved the pig was actually an alien, Weekly World News would have picked up the story or if he had an empty vault to break into, maybe Geraldo. But, as it turned out, it was the Enquirer and little old me. At the end of our visit, it was clear that when Spot went to that giant sty in the sky, this country couple would be getting another little piglet.
It has been more than 20 years since I met Spot but I'll never forget the look in his eye, the curl of his tail and the wit expressed by his snort. He was humble, never trying to hog the spotlight. He never went to market. He stayed home. He had roast beef. He was hygienic and house-broken so he never went WEE WEE WEE all the way home. Honestly, to this day, I can't look at breakfast bacon the same way. Oh, I still eat it, I just say "Sorry, Spot" in between bites.
Anyway, one of the first feature stories I ever did had to do with a pig. It was for PM Magazine in Madison, Wisconsin. Many of you probably recall the show, PM Magazine. It was the most popular syndicated show in the country for long time. Until Wheel of Fortune came along. That darn Pat Sajak! Anyway, I was not a host or anything fancy like that, but I did do silly little stories for the Madison version of the program. That's where the pig comes in. (Sounds like a stage direction for the Broadway version of BABE! "Pig enters stage left and begins to sing and dance, energetically and enthusiastically, with cow. Remember, this scene will only work if you really milk it!")
About three and half hours north of Madison, there was a couple living in a nice little house out in the country. They didn't have children but they did have a pet. A pet upon which they lavished love and attention. The pet's name was Spot because he had a big black splotch on his side. Spot was a pig. No, not one of those little pot-bellied kind that were all the rage sometime ago. No, Spot was a real pig. 750 pounds worth of pig. He stood, on spindly little legs, over five feet at his shoulders. Spot lived in the house with this couple. He had his own bedroom with a comfy mattress on the floor and a full-length mirror on the wall...a swine-glass. Apparently, Spot was rather taken with his own reflection. "Mirror. Mirror. On the wall. Who's the prettiest pig of all?" He was very pleasant. You really had to root, or rut, for him. At one point, the couple thought Spot needed a playmate so they bought him a puppy, which they named Porky. Those two creatures loved to tangle with each other. It was a little unfair because of Spot's size and that fact that Spot was a black belt in karate, having been born with powerful pork chops.
Spot would roll out of bed, take a quick inventory in the looking glass: "Snout. Check. Girth. Check. Tail. Check," then stroll down the hall. If a 750 pound anything can actually "stroll." "Lumber" down the hall maybe more accurate. The man of the house had built a trough in the kitchen so Spot could eat with them. Spot liked day-old bread from the town bakery, peanut butter, honey, fruit...oh, who am I kidding. He was a pig. He liked everything. The woman of the house kept Spot clean by using the vacuum. Spot liked to watch TV. His favorite show was a big hit at the time, Hill Street Blues...no joke.
Spot was well behaved, for a pig. (Something said, with some regularity, about me, too.) He knew one little trick. When the couple had friends over to the house, the mister would drop a dollar on the ground. When their guest bent over to pick it up, Spot would...uh...stick his nose in other people's business, so to speak, and lift the guest right off the ground. Now, the couple thought this was delightful and very funny. You know how proud parents can be. Needless to say, they had few if any return visitors.
This couple's story had already been told in the National Enquirer by the time our little TV piece hit the air. That had gotten them calls from pig-lovers around the world. If they could've proved the pig was actually an alien, Weekly World News would have picked up the story or if he had an empty vault to break into, maybe Geraldo. But, as it turned out, it was the Enquirer and little old me. At the end of our visit, it was clear that when Spot went to that giant sty in the sky, this country couple would be getting another little piglet.
It has been more than 20 years since I met Spot but I'll never forget the look in his eye, the curl of his tail and the wit expressed by his snort. He was humble, never trying to hog the spotlight. He never went to market. He stayed home. He had roast beef. He was hygienic and house-broken so he never went WEE WEE WEE all the way home. Honestly, to this day, I can't look at breakfast bacon the same way. Oh, I still eat it, I just say "Sorry, Spot" in between bites.
Posted at 4:33 AM
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