Ignatius C. Potbelly RIP

I'm not sad. Really. Iggy the piggy was by far the most spoiled and loved pet on this farm. (outside of Brandy and her tenure here) ... He didn't have any purpose, but to make me laugh. And that he did. For 14 years. 

One Sunday afternoon (long ago), sitting here with my mother and brother, I read an ad in the paper- pot bellied piglets for sale. Address was close - after we had looked it up online, I had only been in the house about 2 months, and did not know my way around Palm Beach yet....  My brother and I snuck off to go see.... Knowing just enough to be dangerous, knowing I wanted a female, luckily, only males were left.  $250 was his purchase price. Should I or shouldn't I....  I would have walked away if alone. If anything learned about myself, I don't make swift decisions. Iggy was all on my brother, and his at the time girlfriend. :) And that is how sweet 5 lb, iggy the piggy came to be. 




Bringing him home and hearing him squeal for that first time, buyers remorse soon set in. Lasted about an hour or so. Because they are just that cute and charming. And we were off on a piggy adventure of 14 years. 

The fact that he lived to old age represents all sorts of good things. And bad at times.  He unlike many of his brethren are mis - understood. They're farm animals first. Pets second. They're destroyers and rooters.. Iggy wouldn't hesitate to chew on the dry wall - why? because he could. 

I repeatedly tell the story of the day he went to live outside - for good. 

At about 200lbs living in the house started to become a problem. At 200lbs and able to re-arrange furniture at will, was an even bigger problem. But the final nail ... one morning I woke up and the bottom freeze door was wide open and Iggy had been feasting on about $400 worth of frozen steaks. By the looks of it he'd been at it all night long. And i slept not 30 ft away and never heard one sound. He was that cunning. To be able to open the door, root thru packages, eat silently, knowing one wrong move on his part would wake me up? 

It was time he lived outside.

He was an awesome house pet (in the beginning)... but then it became clear he needed to be outdoors. Even then he was a bit of a challenge.  Pigs are hard wired for eating, endlessly eating, and whatever they could find. I can't tell you how many times I've picked up garbage three, four, five times in an afternoon. - would finally clean it up, move it, put iggy up, and no sooner had I turned around, it was on the ground again. And he was out.  

There were a few times I took him on our goat walks, only to discover, he's not like other herd animals. And it would take me about an hour to get him back on the property. 

Iggy's favorite spot to sleep. In my closet. And even this became a bit of a problem if there wasn't some bedding in there already for him, learning that he could pull down clothes, and make an awesome little bed for himself. Back then I still had fashion worthy, and priced, accordingly clothes. 

What strikes me the most about him, his life, this farm, was that Iggy represented a certain kind of freedom that living out here entailed. A freedom we are slowly, and sadly losing to urbanism. He was a farm animal first and foremost. Now, the county allows them as suburban pets - (which is a good and bad thing to be discussed another day). Back then he wasn't. Iggy got to be around 250lb or more at his heaviest weight. He was a force. But when I brought him home to live on my paltry acreage, it represented so much, so much so, that the goats came soon after. 

RIP iggy the piggy!