Wilbur & Charlotte

When I was a child we had a copy of the original animated Charlotte’s Web movie. It was basically my favorite thing ever and I watched it with religious commitment and cried, nay sobbed – without fail – every time the wee spider died in the end. My mum would threaten to not let me watch it again because I was so upset each time, but she always did, and I always cried. Seriously, it’s a very sad movie, so much so that someone even made a Buzzfeed list of all the eye flooding tragic moments.

I guess my affinity for pigs, and animals in general, started at a very young age. We waited until we got back from my surgery in Toronto in 1983 to get a pet. I recall the conversation with mum very clearly, we whittled down the potential pet list while she very patiently explained all the various logistic limitations. So once I had ascertained that we could not actually get a whale or shark to live in the swimming pool, it was decided that we would instead get a puppy. Bliss.

For many years a pet monkey or a pet pig was also begged for and diligently put into letters to Santa. But no monkey or pig ever manifested and was always swiftly vetoed with the inclusive distraction of yet another turtle, rabbit or hamster. My mother is by nature a very patient woman. At one point I had a pet locust named Larry, not the most engaging of pets but I loved him and fed him lettuce. When he died I shellacked his body and kept it, because I was weird like that.

In my life long love of pigs I never thought I would actually be part pig, (even if factually and medically that is only partly true.) But I still desperately want a pet pig – that has never changed. And once I have the space and the ability to get one, I will.

Wilbur and Charlotte, here I come!

(Jump forward to 3:07 for the real tear jerking action)