A pig named Duckie

I married an animal lover. I gave birth to two animal lovers.

I am not an animal lover.

Soulless, I know.

Puppies don't make me melt. Kittens don't make me coo.

I like the idea of practical animals. Goats that give milk. Chickens for eggs. You know, animals for food, not as pets.

Unfortunately, mi familia does not not agree.

At all.

J has been wanting a dog since before we got married.

"No way," I declared. "Too much work."

Two kids later, it still seems like too much work. Now I tell him, along with my sweet H that a dog is not a possibility due my allergies. Once everyone is willingly weaned, maybe we'll talk (I refuse to take non-life or death meds while breastfeeding).

I also argue that my desire to clean up poop after anything I haven't given birth to is zero. Non-existent.

But H is persistent. To the max. "I need a puppy, Mommy," I hear nearly every day. "I need a kitty of my very own." On and on and on she goes.

So I relented. I said fine. Let's do this animal thing.

And then she saw some piggies.

I knew enough about pet pigs to know that they are hypoallergenic, ridiculously clean, and smarter and easier to train than dogs.

And because I am sick of saying no (though I was sooooo close to her just settling for a lizard), I said yes.

And now we have a Duckie.

Formally, his name is Waldo Titus Mallard G. Because we do everything long and complicated around here. I suggested all literary names (of course!). When I suggested Emerson, J asked who that came from. I informed him it was from Ralph Waldo Emerson. He liked Waldo. H couldn't pronounce it well. J piped in with Titus. H was happy with Duckie. So we made Duckie his all-around name, threw in Mallard because we're cool like that if Duckie is to be his nickname (NCIS anyone?).

So now I currently have a 5 day old teacup piglet cuddled on my lap because it seems all infants I come into contact with find it necessary to be held and snuggled 24/7. Duckie is no different.

Go figure.

At this rate, we're going to have a whole damn zoo. J is planning chickens this spring, which I'm all for. But he happily reminded me that if he puts in a fence for Duckie than that opens up the reality of a dog (because obviously now that we have a pig this is more feasible - to him - allergies or no). What's next, a cat? A goat? A freaking cow?

I wouldn't put it past these animal lovers.

So while I'm bottle feeding a pig every 2-3 hours (who is admittedly freaking sweet and adorable and cuddly and a decent substitute for another baby), they're planning their next grand animal to add to our family.

And here I was completely content with none.

But par the course of our family, we can't do anything normal. Nope. We don't start out with a lizard or a stand-offish cat that is low maintenance. We go straight to a sliding, squealing, need-love-and-attention-at-every-moment pig.

Because, you know, everyone needs a pig.

Or at least my kids think so.