by Carmen Manske

Created on: May 02, 2009

Vacationing with my family in Canada last summer was quite the traumatic experience for our old, dear friend, Aiken. Aiken, by the way, is our beloved family pet. Furthermore, he is a pot-bellied pig. Please do not judge us when we walk down the street with him on a leash. More so, please do not judge us when we are at the park with Aiken and our two sons are passing a football to each other. (Shh! Don't tell Aiken what the football is made of!) We're just an ordinary family. (Yes he bathes! As a matter of fact, he is probably better groomed than your very own dog.) Take your grimaces elsewhere.

So, we arrived in Canada after an uneventful and humdrum five and a half hour drive. We stepped out of the RV to stretch and go for a walk. Aiken, who gets utterly restless in the RV, immediately darted down the steps and into run-like-you-stole-something mode. (Who said pigs can't fly?) You have never seen something look so large and in charge! I don't think there are many times when a person sees something so fat, and with such stubby legs run so fast! It was positively hilarious - But we then had to chase him down.

My husband and I ran after Aiken. Our two sons were laughing too hard to run. I thought the youths of this world were supposed to have more energy than adults. I guess that doesn't matter if you're having a laughing attack, which teenagers are susceptible to. Ask your doctor for a pamphlet on that. (There's another diagnosis they will have to produce for all the teenage problems they may experience.)

Meanwhile, as my husband and I chased Aiken, the loud, boisterous squeals protruding from his delighted pig face echoed across the neighborhood. We shouted his name and charged after him. Soon, onlookers joined in on the chase, and also cried out his name. They had a weird look about their faces though, and I had an unsettling feeling in my stomach. All I knew is I wanted to catch my pig before they did!

When some of the crowd began to salivate and started communicating to each other about "starting up the grill", I then knew that they wanted to eat my pet! Apparently, they thought we were some type of farmers ready to butcher a not-wanting-to-die-yet kind of pig. As we chased my pig, I announced as loudly as I could, "He is my pig, Aiken!" They answered back to me, "Yeah bacon sounds good!"

Finally, one of my sons caught up, and had the leash and halter in his hands. He sprinted ahead, and got Aiken to stop, using a treat. (Why didn't I think of that? - Of course, he's a pig! The crowd finally realized that Aiken is our pet, much to their dismay of course. The whole crowd decided to fire up the grill anyways, and invited us too. I brought over a stock of veggie burgers.

A lot of them were impressed with how dog-like Aiken is, and were really sorry they wanted to eat him, after getting to know him. But then some of them just wanted a different pig to eat. They really wanted that bacon! I guess Canadians really do deserve to have their own kind of bacon, as long as it's not my Aiken!

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