A few paragraphs on the lengthy history of two once-abandoned cats.

Spotos and Tiger were two prematurely weaned and starving--and soon to be lucky--animals when our family found them in autumn; in a local park; 21 yrs ago. They were given names that logically branded them as apt as "Red" or "Slim." Of course, being that our family's Dysfunctionality Index hovers around 7.8, Spotos would come to be known as Sasha to all except me. Sasha. What does that convey? The way she walked? No, she moved like any other feline; might as well have called her Strayos. Why not? It sounds like Stavros and that's legitimate. Anyway, Spotos settled down with us and Tiger went to live on the first floor with my in-laws (that reminds me, I got to pick up a costume).  There, Tiger stayed with no contact from Spotos. If they knew of each other's existence they kept it to themselves.

Now, Spotos had a relationship of mutual respect with our Jack Russell (ground rules were those of the top cat and they were set day 1).  Tiger, on the other hand, would recoil in horror at just the thought of seeing the dog. However, life is changing and fleeting. Towards the end, the dog would come to enjoy napping close to Spotos, the now ancient cat who was no longer desirous of apartheid. After dying in her sleep, she was interred with as much fanfare as possible without attracting any neighbors--I played Chopin's "Funeral March" as my daughter found that there were higher levels of embarrassment that could emanate from dear old Dad.

Tiger too towards the end, stopped his aversion to our dog and would walk in front of him as if the dog had gone into another dimension. The strangest thing that's very personal to me is that Tiger, after 20 years, decided to visit me towards the end of his life. I've heard it said once that near the end of life, many regress to childhood behavior. Had old olfactory kitten-hood memories kicked in to direct him to the human that adopted him and filled his newborn belly with God-knows-what-it-was I concocted. Or, there's another explanation; one that a priest or cat-whisperer medium might give me: Tiger was playing peacemaker by trying to bring me closer to my in-laws from whom I've kept my distance a while.

Tomorrow might shed some light on the latter as I've been delegated to bury Tiger next to Spotos on top of the hill where the dog is himself too old to climb the hill and go digging up bones. 

Hubert gets saved (for real, this time)

Hubert has been rescued. He has been brought to Popcorn Park Zoo in New Jersey where he underwent surgery to repair 2 broken nails and have his hooves trimmed. He will remain at Popcorn Park for the remainder of his quarantine (he can't leave Jersey) and Susan said it looks like she might already have someone interested in him. She said he was a VERY nice, and a VERY good pig! :) (Latest email from my daughter, Adrienne)

Hubert gets saved

I am married to a woman who would do anything for her mother; after all, this was the woman who pre-chewed her food for her as a young child (they couldn't afford the better cuts). Hubert, although cared for by my mother-in-law for the last year because she felt compelled to do so, would soon fall into disfavor for some inexplicable reason--or, I fell into disfavor and she took it out on him. In any event, my wife tried for a while to find Hubert a home. Being unsuccessful at it, she resorted to calling the Animal Control Department at North Bergen, NJ. I'm not sure of the details but she got the ACD to come for Hubert. She told me at the time that Hubert would be taken to a farm. It sounded suspicious so I said that I would follow the vehicle to wherever they were taking Hubert and assure myself that he would be taken care of and not used for target practice. It was a lie, they were coming to euthanize poor Hubert.

I sent off a volley of email to all eight of the Jimenez kids and one of them, my daughter Adrienne got involved immediately. She, along with her significant other, Sean Martinez, began to try to find Hubert a home. They soon communicated with Susan of PigPlacementNetwork.com who said that Hubert could be cared for while they found him a home. There were bureaucratic problems concerning Hubert's overgrown hooves and his weight problem. The vet seemed to think that Hubert's interests would best be served by putting him down. To shorten a very long story involving a cast of dozens of people, Susan did not give up and got the Animal Control Agent and the vet to turn Hubert over to her care. He's going there this Monday where a wound incurred in transport would be cared for and Hubert would be rehabilitated (put on a diet) in preparation for any possible adoption. Susan's organization has found homes for a thousand pigs so far.

Hubert was never my pig but I felt sorry for the way he got obese and fat folds over his eyes kept him blind. Even in his condition, he was always the assertive pig but never mean although to most humans he appeared mean--he wasn't, he was just being an assertive pig. I can't tell you the immense relief I felt when this woman from Pig Placement Network, this angel for the swines, came through for Hubert. The donations from our family are pouring into her charity as we speak. It costs 100 dollars a month to care for a pig like Hubert and we will do all we can to support him in his adventure at Ross Mill Farms.

Finally, I'd like to thank Adrienne Jimenez and Sean Martinez for coming to Hubert's aid. The Animal Control Agent, Jeffrey, whom I berated with outlandish insults and who took it all on the chin knowing I was irate out of frustration in having failed Hubert, is also thanked for not letting the bureaucracy get in the way. I also thank Dr. Carlos Triana for letting me bring Hubert his favorite food while he was in the vet's care.

Hubert the Introvert

Hubert has degraded to a pig. Poor Hubert, lifts his body from the bedding and poops right there. When he urinates, he moves over a few feet. We have no explanation for this behavior other than the fact that he is morbidly obese, can't see because his face squints out his eyes, and drags his pot belly on the ground. The latter may account for why he hates to walk beyond his bedding--he hates the cold of the basement floor.

We have taken steps to put him up for adoption where he might enjoy and socialize with other farm-like animals. However, we think it best to slim him down some so that he can become more "placeable."

My advice to those who may want a Vietnamese pot belly pig is this: be careful where you buy from. We bought Hubert from a breeder in Texas who gave us a breed that grew to be 3-4 times the size of an average Vietnamese PBP. Secondly, if you can't get any guarantees on size, get one only if you live in a more temperate climate like the Southern U.S. If he's going to live indoors in the winter, you'll regret it.

Hubert, stop faking hunger!

Hubet used to get up in the middle of the night and ask my son to give him something to eat. My son, a pushover for animals, obliged but cursed the day of Hubet's transport to Jersey. But here's the clincher: last week, my son went with his girlfriend's family to P.R. on her graduation party--in that time, Hubet hasn't bothered anyone for midnight snacks.

What this tells me is that, if Hubet thinks he can get away with something, he will. If you present him with a dilemma like his customary afternoon snack never came and he cant' get at you to nudge your foot to get you going to do his bidding, he will fall back on a standard behavior like napping or taking a stroll but only if he has been well-fed. If he's really hungry, I don't think anything will deter him from his carb addiction.


Ever since learning of a pig's most "human" embryology, I have always elevated them amongst the other animals. Recently, though, I've been convinced that certain behavior is innate and nothing you do short of some Cesar Milan modification (yo, my man, don't take any grief from those University Brits who have no appreciation for the work you do), can change things. When Hubet is given food that he thinks he "found" by himself, he will, if you try to pick up any of his found food, snarl at you in such a manner that you instinctively withdraw your hand. When things like that happen, I repeatedly pound his forehead with the soft of my fist. This leviathan can hardly acknowledge it and must surely be thinking, "what the heck, I did see it first, grunt, grunt."

Hubet has gotten more respectful. Last year, he would have just plowed in to Grandpa Melnyk's tomatoes; this year, he travels a memorized route (I think he's at least partially blind). Some other animal, though, got his teeth on some peppers and Grandpa Melnyk built some barrier that the "Man against Wild" man would have built if he had been given an entire minute. Oh, you should see the ghetto in Old Man Melnyk's anti-Hubet fences: wire, old stakes, cardboard, scrap sheet metal. All personal filial people note, I really don't care if you step in front of train to save his life, I will tell the world the truth regardless of consequence--that's what writers and scientists do.

Hubert's dilemma

Hubert better watch his butt. Paranoia might set in and people who don't know better will start thinking that pigs and swine flu pandemics simply don't go together. In actuality, you are more likely to get swine flu from another person than you are from a pig but mob mentality is so hard to control.

Hubert has been demanding food at night. We don't know what to do about this behavior. Any pig-whisperers out there?

A Pig by any other name

Hubert is not a dog or cat. Anyone who dares to endow a Vietnamese Pot-bellied pig with canine/feline characteristics is in for a rude and crude awakening. Hubert cares about food and mud baths. There is nothing else this animal would entertain with his very smart brain. (This is why Russians choose to train bears and the French choose poodles. No one opts for a pig.) A pig bullied his way into a part on Charlotte's Web and I think one lead part but if you have one for a pet, he will disappoint you. He will amaze you on his many ways of manipulating you into giving him food but he will not do what you ask of him if it kills him. OK, they are too smart to piss you off that much but if there is a way to get past you, he will go for it. They can afford to do it. They are built like the proverbial Sherman Tank. Luckily, he is almost always on the defensive. Offensively, he only feigns an attack with dogs or human strangers.

I ask God every day to help me tolerate this beast and his modus operandi. I know fully well that it is not his fault that my son purchased him thinking he would remain a petite pig--what an oxymoron that turned out to be.