Pass the Pig

Growing up I had one of those bedroom doors that wouldn’t stay open on itsown. I was probably age five or six when a neighbor gave me a doorstop as a gift. Not just any doorstop – it was a pig made out of a plastic bottle dressed in a pink dress with a big pink hat. Now I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, but I didn’t like this pig…at all. She wasn’t cool, she wasn’t trendy and she certainly didn’t “go with” my room. But she faithfully did her job of keeping my door propped open for many years. She even survived being drug down the hallway and having her face partially chewed off by my dog, as well as many nights of me kicking her across the room to shut my door.

When I got married and moved out my mom tried to get me to take the pig. Absolutely not….I told her to throw it away. Little did I know that day that I started a chain of events that has carried on to this day. Not giving a second thought to this pig, I went on my honeymoon and settled into married life. A year or so went by and upon returning from a vacation I came home to find the pig wearing sunglasses and holding a sign that read something like, “Did you miss me?” No I didn’t. I called my mom who advised that she didn’t have the heart to throw the pig away and told me to do it. Well looking at her with her little pink dress and hat and chewed up face, I couldn’t pitch her either. So in the closet she went. Several months later I dumped her back at my parents’ house – I think I actually hid her in a closet. After that she showed up in my bathtub.

Wanting to get my mom back good, I took her to her place of work and sat her in her styling chair (my mom was a beautician), put a roller in her hair and wrapped a cape around her and hoped my mom would get the point. Needless to say we have spent the last several years passing this pig back and forth. We are both always surprised to see her. I even packed her in my parents’ moving van when they moved to Florida and hid her in their garage. From there, she ended up back in my bedroom – I found her staring at me from behind a quilt rack while I was on the phone. Back to Florida she went – I stuffed her in my parents’ trunk late during the night before they left. This was in January 2014, and she hasn’t been seen since…until the other night. It was around 11:00 pm and I woke up to the sound of my husband yelling, “Shannon, what’s at the bottom of the bed?” (That is the censored version). Yes, it was the pig. My mom had apparently shoved her under the covers in our bed before she left for the airport that morning. So the next move is mine. I have a couple ideas of what I’m going to do with her next and I absolutely know what her ultimate fate will be. She’s been around for about 30 years, so she deserves a good send off. But until then…mom, be prepared.

Growing up I had one of those bedroom doors that wouldn’t stay open on its own. I was probably age five or six when a neighbor gave me a doorstop as a gift. Not just any doorstop – it was a pig made out of a plastic bottle dressed in a pink dress with a big pink hat. Now I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, but I didn’t like this pig…at all. She wasn’t cool, she wasn’t trendy and she certainly didn’t “go with” my room. But she faithfully did her job of keeping my door propped open for many years. She even survived being drug down the hallway and having her face partially chewed off by my dog, as well as many nights of me kicking her across the room to shut my door.

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