The Unlikely Story of a Pig in the City

by Jodi Kendall

  “Are you telling me that’s a Shilling pig?”

  Her words weren’t flames, but her angry tone burned me inside all the same. All the confidence inside me turned to ash. I nodded and tried not to cry. Then Mrs. Taglioni did something that I wasn’t expecting. She went back inside the house, leaving me standing on the doorstep.

  “Um? Hello?” I called in through the screen door. “HELLO?”

  I suddenly caught a whiff of a thick, sweet aroma floating out of the townhouse, something I hadn’t noticed in the yard before. Mrs. Taglioni opened the screen door, and Hamlet came barreling out. Good thing I was quick enough to reach down and grab her before she bolted back into the yard.

  “If it weren’t for my cats, my homemade corn chowder would be on the floor right now in a shattered crockpot,” Mrs. Taglioni yelled, narrowing her eyes.

  I drew Hamlet closer to my chest. She was a very! bad! piglet! but her body trembled and her heart raced. I stroked her across her back, trying to calm her down. “Did they hurt her?” I asked.

  “They chased her away,” Mrs. Taglioni snapped, fire in her voice. “And rightfully so! If I ever see that pig around here again, I’ll—”

  Mrs. Taglioni’s jaw dropped open. She was staring off at something behind me, something so unbelievably horrible that even she couldn’t find the words, which was like a first for Mrs. Taglioni.

  I didn’t need to turn around.

  I already knew the damage that Hamlet had done.

  Mrs. Taglioni rolled her shoulders back and said the worst four words I’d ever heard her say in my whole life.

  “I’m. Calling. Your. Mother.”

  Chapter 12

  DOWN FOR THE COUNT

  Please don’t say I’m grounded, I begged Mom with my eyes. Please, please, please.

  Mom’s lips drew into a thin line. She had barely said a word since I got home. I’d only received instructions with clipped words. Josie, clean Hamlet’s litter box. Finish your homework. Then find me—we need to have a talk.

  I’d done as she asked, but it was hard to calm the nerves fluttering in my stomach. I didn’t know exactly what Mrs. Taglioni told her, but I knew that both of them were upset with me.

  I rubbed baby shampoo all over Hamlet’s body until she was covered in bubbles. She tried to slurp up the bathwater, and I lifted her snout away. She knew just how to make me laugh, even when I was feeling my lowest.

  “Hammie!” I scooped up water and rinsed her back. The pig turned toward me and snorted hard through her big round nostrils, blowing a stream of bubbles in my face. I giggled. “You’re lucky you’re this cute,” I told her, rinsing the rest of her body off.

  As I drained the bathwater, I towel-dried her off and then lifted her out onto the bath mat. She was so heavy! Come springtime—if I was allowed to keep her that long, and things weren’t looking promising—I’d have to bathe her with the garden hose out back.

  After I tucked Hamlet into her Cave, I made a snack of celery sticks with ranch dressing and flopped open my Science book to the new lesson. It was usually my best subject, but I couldn’t focus, not tonight. It took me twice as long to finish the questions at the end of the section.

  While I waited for Mom to finish helping Amelia with her homework, I closed my eyes and visualized my balance beam routine, but even then, Hamlet invaded my thoughts. I imagined the piglet bolting across the gym and jumping over the beam right when I was attempting a back walkover, making me fall off onto the mat.

  I opened my eyes.

  I just needed to get the conversation over with.

  I found Mom wearing her fuzzy bathrobe and brewing hot tea in the kitchen. “Want a cup?” she asked, looking up, and I shook my head. She glanced out the window into the dark backyard and I felt my nerves flare up again. “Let’s go sit on the couch,” she finally said.

  Once we took our seats, I blurted, “What did Mrs. Taglioni tell you?”

  Mom dunked a tea bag in the mug, carefully choosing her words. “That Hamlet jumped into her yard, knocking over some fencing and planters. She mentioned that the pig ran into her house, too, Josie. You can imagine she was very upset about all of this. . . .”

  I swallowed hard. “Yeah, she wasn’t too happy.”

  My mom sighed. “You’ll have to pay for the damage, Josie.”

  “No way.” I sat upright. “It wasn’t my fault, Mom! It was—”

  “Hamlet’s fault,” she finished. “I know it feels that way, Josie. But you agreed to take responsibility for her and that means actions have consequences. We can’t leave that fence broken. It’s a safety hazard, not to mention our property line with Mrs. Taglioni. You should have heard how angry she was over her broken planters. She said the total damage could be four hundred dollars—maybe more! Do you realize how much money that is? And with the van just getting fixed, and the holidays coming up, this is all terrible timing. . . .”

  “But I told Amelia to put Hamlet on a leash.”

  “You’re the big sister. If Millie didn’t listen to you, you could have put Hamlet on the leash yourself. Now.” She took a deep breath. “When your father and I gave you permission to keep the pig until New Year’s, you agreed that you’d be responsible for Hamlet’s actions. I know you won’t be happy to hear this, Josie, but I expect you to pay for some of the damage with your saved allowance money. And for the next month, there will be no more weekly allowance.”

  My eyes welled up with tears. Paying for the fence was a ton better than getting grounded and missing my gymnastics meet this weekend, but still. The last thing I wanted to do was use my precious allowance money on boring things like fencing and planters.

  I did a quick calculation. I had $76.02 in savings. And Hamlet was almost out of food, so I needed twenty dollars to cover that. If the destruction bills totaled four hundred dollars, my parents would still have to pay $343.98 to cover the rest of the damages.

  $343.98.

  There’s no way my parents would pay the two hundred dollar gymnastics fee on top of that.

  What that meant was absolutely devastating.

  I’d lose my spot on the team.

  I began to sob uncontrollably. Mom rubbed my back and said, “Oh, sweetie, I know you’re hurting inside right now. This just gives me more reassurance that Hamlet would be happier living at a farm, Josie. She’s a sweet little pig, but she’s not meant for city life.”

  “Hamlet was hungry. She just smelled the corn chowder is all.” I stared into Doug’s flickering Christmas lights, but through the tears it felt like I was swimming in a sea of blurry red and green waves. I couldn’t even think about Hamlet being taken away from me on top of losing my allowance money and my gymnastics spot. It was too much.

  Sugar trotted over and nestled her gray snout against my knee. I patted her head and she lay down beside the couch. Even though I was furious with Hamlet, I wished I could let her out of the Cave to snuggle with her, too. Animals just had a way of making me feel better.

  “And there’s something else,” Mom started, her eyebrows pinching together.

  I looked up in alarm. “What?”

  “Lou’s mom called me today. She said she’d been trying to reach us all week?”

  I leaned against the couch cushion. This night couldn’t get any worse.

  “Well, I’m afraid I have bad news. . . . She had friends interested in adopting Hamlet. They sounded like a wonderful family, too. But when Dr. Stern asked about her current temperament and if she’d ever shown aggression, well . . .” Mom cleared her throat. “I had to tell her about what happened with Ms. Coburn. It was the right thing to do.”

  “Oh, Mom!” I said. I didn’t want to send Hamlet away, but I also didn’t want anyone thinking badly of her. She was the sweetest pig I knew. “Hamlet only wanted the pie, she would never hurt anyone! She’s just a hungry pig going through a growth spurt, that’s all!”

  “I know, sweetie. But it’s the truth, all the same. I wouldn’t feel comfortable if we didn’t
disclose all the details in advance.” Mom sipped her hot tea. “Well, let’s just say that they’ve decided that Hamlet sounds more wild creature than pet, and they’ve decided to pass. I believe they were concerned with aggressive dominant and feral behavior.”

  Hamlet wasn’t aggressive or dominant. I wasn’t quite sure what feral meant, but I was pretty positive she wasn’t that, either.

  “Have you been working to find her a home, honey?” Mom asked after a long pause.

  I drew in a deep, shaky breath instead of answering her. I was still hoping the Case for Keeping Hamlet was wide open. I couldn’t imagine giving her away. Just the thought of it made my heart ache inside.

  “You promised us that you’d find Hamlet a family, Josie,” Mom reminded me gently. “And you need to keep that promise.”

  Why couldn’t my mom see how important Hamlet was to me? That I needed her in my life?

  Words didn’t come. Instead, I clutched the fabric of my long-sleeved pajama shirt and wiped away my tears.

  “Now.” Mom tucked a lock of hair behind my ear but her voice was firm. “About the fence. I know this is hard for you, Josie, and I’m sorry for that. It’s hard for me, too. But you need to pay for the damage that Hamlet caused. I’ll discuss it with your father when he comes home from work tonight, but I know that he’ll agree.”

  Paying for the damage meant the end of my allowance savings. Months of not buying things I wanted to buy because gymnastics meant more to me. It felt like my heart was going to burst. But instead, the tears burst instead, streaming down my cheeks.

  I didn’t have a choice.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. Her face crumpled up, and she leaned in to give me a hug.

  “I’m sorry, too, sweetie. I know this is hard for you. We love you so much.”

  The front door opened right then, and Dad walked in, stomping the snow off his boots. He pulled off his coat and wool hat, hanging them on the back of the door, before spotting us.

  “We’re in here,” Mom called out. “How was work?”

  “Work.” Dad sighed a deep, sad sigh, and then said, “I missed four calls from Mrs. Taglioni. She didn’t leave a voice mail. Anyone know what that’s about?”

  Mom and I exchanged a look. Tears overflowed from my eyes all over again, and I crumpled against her chest.

  “What?” Dad’s eyebrows lifted in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

  Mom patted my knee. “Go on, Josie.”

  Dad sat next to me on the couch. I told him through the tears about Hamlet busting the fence and bolting into Mrs. Taglioni’s house and how much the damages might cost. I watched as the news sunk in, and his face fell into his hands.

  “Dad?” I asked him. “Dad, I’m sorry—I tried—I tried—”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally, he reached over and gave my hand a squeeze so I knew he wasn’t mad at me, but still, he wouldn’t look me in the eyes.

  We sat in silence for a minute, just listening to the faint whoosh of car tires slushing through the snow on the busy street outside. I exhaled slowly and got off the couch. “Be right back.”

  I walked down the hall and ignored my parents’ whispering behind me. All I heard was Mom ask, “Did you pay the credit card bill this month?”

  Hamlet was sleeping in her Cave, curled up against an old tattered yellow towel. Her eyes were closed and she rested her snout between her front hooves. She seemed exhausted like she’d fallen into one of those deep sleeps that Sugar has after she goes to the dog park in the summertime. I reached over and patted the top of Hamlet’s head. She cracked open one eye in alarm, but when she saw me she closed it right back, that’s how much we trusted each other.

  “Oh, Hamlet,” I said. “What a day.” I wasn’t even mad at her anymore. It wasn’t her fault, not really, and the cats had really scared her. “Good night,” I whispered.

  Upstairs, in the girls’ bedroom, Ellen was reading on the top bed of the bunk she shared with Sarah. Amelia was fast asleep already, and Sarah was listening to music on her headphones. Ellen barely glanced up from her book, but she must’ve heard me sniffling because she snapped the fantasy book closed and said, “What’s wrong with you?”

  I squeezed underneath the bunk bed, grabbing my money jar from its hiding place. The glass felt cool on my fingertips.

  “Everything,” I said, spinning the jar around, listening to the coins and bills rattle inside for the last time. “Just everything.”

  I tried to squelch the frustration and disappointment tornadoing inside me. I should be working on my mental game, like Coach suggested. I used to spend my evenings memorizing my new routines, watching YouTube videos of the skills at the library, and doing crunches and squats and sun salutations. Now I was too busy feeding Hamlet dinner, giving her baths, walking her in the yard, and cleaning the Cave to do much else besides homework.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t love Hamlet.

  I did.

  It’s just taking care of a piglet was a lot harder than I’d thought it’d be. In saving Hamlet’s life, I felt like I was losing some of my own.

  Chapter 13

  DESPERATE TIMES, DESPERATE MEASURES

  Sully’s Three-Week Rule is bogus.

  I did the math. Hamlet arrived three weeks ago today. Sure, Dad let her sleep with his favorite slippers on Tree Day and even protected her from the wrath of Ms. Coburn last weekend, but then Hamlet damaged the fence and . . . well.

  With seventeen days left before New Year’s Day, it looked like the Case for Keeping Hamlet was now Case Closed.

  How did I know? Because before school at breakfast that morning, Hamlet barreled over the baby gate blocking her Cave and galloped down the hallway. She leapt over Millie’s boots in the hall and bullied herself right up against my legs, trying to steal my Pop-Tart.

  “Hamlet—no!” I scolded her, looping my fingers around her collar. Then, more calmly because Dad was watching, “Now, Hamlet. You’re trying to tell me you need breakfast, aren’t you? I’ll go feed you now. And don’t worry, I scheduled plenty of time for a nice long walk before school today—”

  Before I could lead her back down the hall, Dad wagged his finger at me. “Josie Shilling, wait one moment.” I stopped in my tracks. “Time is ticking. That pig has tripled in size since she got here. You need to find Hamlet a home ASAP or I’m going to ship her to anyone in this country that’ll take her, for pork or a pet!”

  His tone was like a bolt of lightning to my spine, making me stand up straight. “You don’t mean it!” I said, tugging her a little closer.

  No. He couldn’t mean it. Could he?

  “You need to be picking up the phone and making calls, today. That was the agreement weeks ago.”

  “Um, Dad,” I said, clearing my throat. “Did Millie tell you how Hamlet learned to catch a Frisbee?”

  “Yeah, Dad!” Amelia looked up from her cereal bowl. “It only took like ten times. She’s super smart. And she can jump really high!”

  I grinned. Another reason for keeping Hamlet!

  Ellen glanced up from reading the morning newspaper. She had a neighborhood paper route and she always made it a point to read the daily paper to catch up on the news. “Another storm is coming this weekend,” she said, tapping the big map of the Midwest on the back page. The entire state of Ohio was colored blue and white. “I hear it’s going to be a long, snowy winter.”

  Dad closed his eyes, massaging his temples in teeny tiny circles. Finally, he took a swig of coffee and reached for his bus card. “I’ll be home for dinner. Love you, girls.” He leaned down and gave me a kiss on the head. Then he pointed at Hamlet. “But I mean it about Hamlet. Two weeks. And secure that baby gate, okay?”

  I nodded and watched Dad head out the door to work, tucking his chin into his coat and trekking through the snow outside. The morning sky was thick and gray, with that looming darkness that’s typical of December, when the sun doesn’t rise until eight.

  If it weren’t for the taxica
b headlights from the street catching my attention, I never would’ve noticed what was happening next door at Mrs. Taglioni’s house. I squinted my eyes through the bay window. Dr. Stern stood on our neighbor’s front stoop, her stethoscope slung around her neck.

  The last thing I wanted was to get caught up in a conversation with Mrs. Taglioni, but I needed to talk to Dr. Stern and desperate times call for desperate measures.

  If the Case for Keeping Hamlet was closed—and I really hoped it wasn’t—I needed to find someone who would love her and take good care of her, or Dad was going to make good on his word. If anyone could help me find Hamlet a forever home, it’d be Dr. Stern.

  I grabbed my puffy coat, zipped it up, and yelled to my sisters, “Just going next door real quick!” before disappearing into the soft, falling snow. My boots crunched down the steps as I made my way to Mrs. Taglioni’s.

  “Dr. Stern!” I called out in the howling wind. “You know how you talked to my mom the other day? Maybe you can help—”

  “Not now, Josie.”

  I stopped talking midsentence. I’d been so focused on what I needed to say that I didn’t even notice what I should be seeing.

  Mrs. Taglioni stood at the cracked-open door. Her face was barely visible, but from what I could see, I knew that the almost impossible was happening right now, in front of me, on her very front stoop.

  She was bawling her eyes out.

  Mrs. Taglioni.

  Had. A. Heart.

  I could barely believe it!

  “Mrs. Taglioni?” I said, walking up her stoop steps. “Are you okay?”

  Which made her cry even harder. “My poor Ralphie,” she sobbed. “He didn’t listen to me. Chewed an electrical cord . . . And . . . And . . . it just ZINGED him!”

  My gaze dropped to the dark bag in Dr. Stern’s hand. “Ralphie . . . ?”

  Mrs. Taglioni wiped away her tears with a handkerchief, unable to answer me. Dr. Stern drew the bag closer to her chest and said calmly, “A sugar glider.”