Oink

We have a new decoration at our house.  A pig (Sus scrofa domesticus) has come to stay with us. An Essex Saddleback pig, to be exact.  Niiiiiiiice.  I like him.  Yes, we're going to call it a "him" pig.  Because I want to.  Now I've got to figure out a name for him.  I had the perfect name but he turns out to be the wrong breed so we'll keep looking.  Maybe we'll call him Mr. Hobbs.  Yeah, I like that.  Mr. Hobbs, it is.  Full name is Mr. Fisher Hobbs.

This pig's journey to our house is fun.  After years of going about life and seeing the various things people decorate their yards with I came to the conclusion that the only thing I'd really feel comfortable with in my yard was a cement pig.  Over the last several years I've made this comment a few times and I guess people were listening.  Last summer Brombeere happened to see one for sale at an antique shop.  So she got it.  It was pretty sad looking so she enlisted Erdbeere's help and snuck it to her while everybody but me was looking.  Erdbeere took it home, cleaned it up and painted it.  Then, when she came back up here for Christmas she brought it with and they put it under the tree.  Well, not actually under the tree, but behind my chair, which was right next to the tree.  And enough out of sight that I didn't even realize it was there until Christmas morning when a couple of the boys carried it out from behind the chair and gave it to me.  Pretty cool, uh?  So he sat in our living room for a few days so he could be admired.  Then the boys moved him outside.  Cool.   I like him.