So Where's Winnie the Pooh?

I know living a rural life has its surprises but this getting ridiculous. This morning as I was walking through the dining room, I casually looked out the glass doors and stopped dead in my tracks. There's a dog, a boxer, in my yard. Unfortunately, loose dogs in my yard are a common enough occurance here and that is not what has me gazing outside with my mouth open. Following closely behind the dog is a pig. A little pink pig. Well, there goes the neighbourhood. As soon as I go outside, the dog takes off, the pig decides to hang around for a while.

This little pig is checking out the chicken coop. He tried for a while to get into the chicken area and has decided may-be he can get into the coop. My teenage daughter, absolutely charmed by this little piglet, promptly christened him Herbert and declared she wanted him. Fat chance, kid. You have two dogs, one cat, rabbits and chickens, all of which you ignore ninety-five per cent of the time. Forget the pig.

OK, well he's finished investigating the chicken coop so he's decided to mosey over and investigate me. I back up a wee bit. He's a charming little guy but I have a thing about personal space when it comes to pigs, even little piglet ones who should be romping around the 100 acre woods with a stuffed bear.

So now Piglet is heading home. Good-bye little pig, don't come back because you are awfully cute and sweet and may-be the idea of keeping you would be too hard to resist.