The webs we weave

The past couple of weeks in first grade have been spent reading the infamous book, Charlotte's Web. Now we're watching the movie that was produced in 1972 (to heck with the newest version, to heck!). Truly one of the saddest cartoons ever. In fact, if there was ever someone to blame for my becoming a vegetarian, it would be a man by the name of Walt Disney. My heart broke, absolutely broke, over stories such as Charlotte's Web, Bambi- even Cinderella (who would want to actually kill a mouse after having seen how much they helped a friend in need?).

You might think I'm kidding about this. But I assure you I am not.

Some might say that Charlotte's Web is a story about friendship, hope, compassion. But let's not forget. I tend to be half-empty when it comes to that glass sitting over there on the counter. How about all the bacon and ham talk? And even though Wilbur's story ends well, what happens to the pig named Uncle after he won his prize at the fair? Do you think he was treated like a well-loved companion? Doubt it. Chances are pretty high he ended up in one of those hot dogs you were all talking about a couple posts back.

This past summer I answered phones for a horseback riding crew. They also happened to own a pig. Her name was Rose (note the word was). My plan was to steer clear of dear little Rose the week I was answering phones- no need for me to get attached to her. The truth of the situation was that I really wanted to free her. She had once been a free pig, but was captured during a hunt somewhere in Texas in order to feed a gaggle of friends come that following autumn. I tried to stay away. Really. But she escaped from her pen that first day I was there. She actually escaped. I drove up to the house to answer phones, and there was Rose, digging in the garden. How's that for crapola? I had to put her back in her pen. And then I had to try to make sure the pen would keep her, ummm, safe and sound until her owners returned. Let's just say that damn pen didn't work out, and I had to run after that pig several times every day. There were times when I felt utter despair about the whole thing. She loved running after me, rubbing her little snout against my leg. We became fairly good buds- heck, if you would have paid a visit there one of those days, you might have seen a girl and her pig friend running down a hill together. Free as the wind. Delight.

I tried to save her in the end by posting pictures of Rose and I around the owner's house- "see how great your pig is? Just like a pet! Surely you don't want to eat her!" But alas, my planning didn't work out and she ended up being a meal for a large group. Poor Rose. Poor, poor Rose.

So here I am. Reminiscing about a pig all because of two folks who went by the names of E.B. White and Walt Disney. So here's to you, dear Rose. May you be roaming in one heck of a fantastic manure pile with plenty of barnyard friends. With lots of green hills. And no talk of bacon or ham.