100% Pig

by Tanya Landman

  For Tilly

  Contents

  Chapter One An Australian Boar

  Chapter Two Bellyaching

  Chapter Three The End Of The Road

  Chapter Four Betrayed

  Chapter Five Trapped

  Chapter Six Running Wild

  Chapter Seven Town Centre

  Chapter Eight Pig Heaven

  Chapter Nine Fugitives

  Chapter Ten Leader of the Pack

  Chapter Eleven Wild and Free

  Chapter Twelve Mud Bath

  Chapter Thirteen Diversionary Tactics

  Chapter Fourteen An Australian Star

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  An Australian Boar

  ‘Yuck! It’s got horrid piggy eyes!’

  Piggy eyes? Piggy eyes?! Of course I’ve got piggy eyes. What does she expect? I’m a pig! I’d look mighty strange without them.

  That’s the problem with living on a rare breeds farm: putting up with the people that come on the weekend can be really hard. Pig ignorant, most of them. It’s not that I mind the occasional visitor, you understand. Not so long as they show a little respect for my pedigree.

  I’m a pure Tamworth, me. That’s the oldest breed of pig there is. Call me an old boar, but I can trace my ancestors right back to the Stone Age. I’m practically porcine royalty. My family started off as Brits, but then my Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandad emigrated to Australia about a hundred years ago.

  I got sent back to England when I was no more than a small piglet. I’m here to enrich the breed’s bloodline, whatever that means. Still got my accent, though. Kept my Aussie twang. The point is, I come from ancient stock. I’m your actual living history. I’m quality, me.

  Which was more than could be said for the little madam who was dangling her legs over the wall of my sty.

  ‘It’s ugly, Daddy! Daddy! It smells!’

  Hurf! Everyone’s allowed to break a little wind now and then. It’s only natural. ’Specially if you’ve just had dinner.

  ‘Daddy, that smelly pig’s the wrong colour!’

  Now I get it, I thought. I’d met her type before. She was one of the ‘Babe Brigade’. They expect all pigs to be bright pink, with a stupid dinky wig, and never grow up. They showed us that film on the plane over, and that pig never got any bigger. All year long he was the size of a cutesy little piglet. He had a real serious growth problem. Hurf! Didn’t anyone call the vet? What’s more, I know for a fact that that pig dyed his eyelashes. I mean what kind of behaviour is that for a self-respecting porker?

  But it’s what some visitors expect. They peer over the wall and then jump back in shock when they see me – 600 lbs of ginger Tamworth boar. Got the looks of a film star, I have. I tell you, I’m a glorious sight to behold. 100% pure pig. That’s me.

  But madam on the wall just looked at me sniffily. It was starting to irritate me. So I thought, OK I’ll go back inside. Burrow under my straw and wait ’til she goes away.

  ‘Daddy! It’s going away! Tell it not to! Bring it back, Daddy!’

  And can you believe it? Daddy fetched a stick. That’s right. A stick. And he started banging the back of my shed. Well, that just about did it for me. I was enraged. 100% furious. And an enraged, 100% furious, pure Tamworth pig is not a pretty sight, believe me.

  Now I might be big, but I can sure run fast when I’ve a mind to. I came out of that shed like an oiled cannonball. I was headed straight for madam. She scrambled backwards off the wall with a really satisfying shriek. One of her shoes fell off in the rush. It landed in my trough.

  I didn’t even stop to sniff it.

  Chomp. Gulp. Down in one.

  Well, I am a pig, aren’t I? We’ll eat anything. It’s what we do. It’s our mission in life: Total Omnivorousness. Now there’s a good word. Meaning ‘can and will eat everything’.

  But now madam was gasping and screaming, ‘It ate my shoe, Daddy! Daddy! Get it back! Get it back!’

  Daddy and me took a good long look at each other. I bared my teeth in a porcine grin. Dared him to try – just try – retrieving it. Daddy went pale.

  ‘I’ll get you some new ones, darling.’ There was a distinct tremble in his voice. Daddy led madam away across the yard.

  I stood up on my back legs and hooked my trotters over the sty door. ‘That’ll teach you to mess with a Tamworth, mate!’ I yelled after them. ‘Don’t come back.’

  I don’t reckon he knew exactly what I was saying. There aren’t many people that understand pig, ‘specially when it’s spoken with an Aussie accent. But they got the gist OK – they rushed back to their car real quick. And I lay down in my straw to enjoy the sunshine.

  Chapter Two

  Bellyaching

  My nap didn’t last long.

  I guess shoes aren’t all that digestible. After about half an hour my gut started to ache. By teatime I was feeling really miserable. I was breaking so much wind that even I was finding the smell a bit strong.

  But only a dead pig doesn’t get hungry. I swung my front legs over the door, and demanded my tea.

  ‘Oy, Waiter!’ I squealed, ‘Where’s my tucker?’

  The Waiter came out of the farmhouse, grumbling to himself, same as usual.

  ‘Some days I wish I’d never gone into farming. Dishing out food morning, noon and night. Shovelling up muck the rest of the time. What a life!’

  Round and round the yard he went.

  ‘It’s not like there’s any money in it. Worst business in the world, this is.’

  Grumble, grumble, grumble.

  ‘Bank constantly on my back. Bills landing on the mat every morning. Some days I think I should just sell up and have done with it. Find an easy job instead. Maybe I could work in a nice warm shop.’

  He was as slow as ever. I swear he did it to wind me up.

  First he went to all the cute fluffies. The itsy bitsy bunnies and the springy little lambs. Then he did the woollybacks and the bendyhorns. I mean they’re in a field for heaven’s sake. Food constantly all around them. They don’t know the meaning of the word hunger. Then he did each and every one of my wives, and all my offspring.

  By the time he got to me I was fair bellowing in desperation. ‘About time! I’m starving!’

  But before he tipped in my tucker, the cheeky beggar sniffed the air.

  ‘Ooooh, Terence,’ he said. ‘You don’t smell too good. Have you got an upset stomach? Perhaps we ought to give your insides a rest. Maybe you should miss a meal…’

  I nearly fainted. Miss a meal? Me? I started to grunt and make pathetic little wheezes.

  ‘Go on, mate,’ I gasped. ‘Tip it in my trough.’

  Believe me, a 100% pure pig being reduced to begging for food is not a pretty sight.

  Luckily Tamsin came across the yard just before I sank to my knees and pleaded. I mean it wouldn’t have been dignified – a pig with my pedigree. But she spared me that humiliation.

  She’s all right, is Tamsin. She’s the Waiter’s daughter and she hands out the grub some days. When it’s Tamsin’s turn I can rest assured I’ll get my tucker first. She leaves the fluffies and the woollybacks and the bendyhorns and all my wives and offspring until last. She’s my Chief Back Scratcher too.

  ‘Can’t you see he’s hungry?’ said Tamsin. ‘Come on, Dad. Give poor Terence his tea.’

  Like I said, she’s all right.

  But then the Waiter started going on about the dreadful smell. You try eating a shoe, mate, I thought. See what it does to your insides.

  Tamsin was great. ‘He’s desperate, Dad. I’m sure he’ll be OK. Anyway, you can’t bring his food all the way over and then take it away again. It’s cruel.’

  The Waiter gave one of those almighty, all-right-have-i
t-your-own-way-but-I-know-I’m-right sighs.

  He tipped the tucker in my trough. It was only pig nuts, but it tasted like best swill to me. I pigged it in seconds. Pure heaven.

  I felt all right for a minute. But then everything started exploding inside. 100% pure bellyache. My guts felt like they were being squeezed by a giant fist. Real nasty.

  And as if that wasn’t bad enough, then I got another shock.

  ‘Going to help me bring Jolene over?’ the Waiter said to Tamsin.

  ‘Sure,’ she replied.

  Well excuse me. No one asked if I wanted company. Talk about lack of respect.

  Jolene’s one of my wives. A quality boar like me gets to have a lot of wives, see? I had six at the last count, just like Henry VIII. Told you I’m practically porcine royalty. They’re nice enough girls, most of them. Apart from Jolene. Of all the sties in all the farms in all the world, I sure didn’t want Jolene in mine. But they steered her over anyway – she practically galloped across the yard – then they locked her in. Hurf!

  Jolene’s lousy company. The worst. Never stops talking. And it’s never about anything interesting – like my pedigree. It’s always farmyard stuff. Beryl did this and Sheila did that, and who’s had the biggest litter. And that night, when I had fireworks going off in my belly, she was the very last pig I wanted to see.

  For starters I can’t understand a word she’s saying. She talks through her snout. Got a real thick accent.

  ‘Hallo, Terrrence ow are yow?’

  And she started doing this weird thing with her eyelashes: batting them up and down. I thought maybe two flies had simultaneously dive-bombed into both her eyeballs.

  ‘You OK?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, oim foin thenk yow, Terrrence. Thenks for arsking.’

  And she did it again. Blink, blink, blink. Flutter, flutter, flutter. Then she came over and stood real close. Leant against me like I’m a gatepost or something. Talk about being over-friendly.

  ‘Well this is exciting iddn’t it?’ she said. ‘We heven’t sin each uther in evver so long. I bin feelin evver so lonely, now me little piggies hev flown the nest.’

  Pigs flying? I thought. What is the old sow on about?

  ‘It’s evver so noice to sae yow, Terrence.’

  Blink, blink, blink. Flutter, flutter, flutter. I couldn’t bear it. I went in my shed and buried myself under the straw without saying a word. I tried to go to sleep. I would have done too, if Tamsin and the Waiter had shut up for long enough.

  ‘He’s definitely off colour,’ said the Waiter.

  ‘Maybe he’s just tired,’ said Tamsin.

  Too right, Tamsin. Good on yer, mate.

  ‘No… He really ought to be showing some interest in Jolene. Something’s not right. We’re going to have to call the vet out.’

  Wonderful. Fantastic. Marvellous. Well, I thought, that really gives me something to look forward to.

  Chapter Three

  The End Of The Road

  You’ve probably heard the expression, ‘squealing like a stuck pig’? If you value your ear drums it’s a noise best avoided.

  Someone should have warned the vet. You’d think it would be part of his training. He didn’t even bring ear plugs.

  The second that man came into the sty, I knew he was trouble. His boots were too clean for starters. I could practically see my face in them. They were shiny. New. Untested. Just like him.

  ‘This your first job?’ asked the Waiter.

  ‘Oh gosh, yes. I’ve only just qualified.’ The vet smiled nervously. ‘I’m afraid I’m a little inexperienced with … larger animals.’

  Now if the Waiter had had any respect for me at all he’d have sent the fella packing. Called in a proper vet. But did he? Hurf!

  ‘Oh, I see what you mean about the smell. It’s not quite right, is it? Hmmmm.’

  Can’t a pig break wind without the whole world commenting on it? Where’s my privacy? If Tamsin wasn’t at school she’d have seen me right. But that Waiter treats me like an animal.

  ‘Better take a look at him, I suppose.’ The vet’s voice was kind of high and squeaky. He was real scared.

  ‘He won’t do anything,’ said the Waiter. ‘He’s quite the gentleman, our Terence. He’s a placid old thing, really.’

  Oh yeah? I thought. Sounded like a challenge to me. I stared at the vet. Just you try any funny business, mate. I’ll show you ‘placid’.

  The vet poked and prodded and peered into my little piggy eyes. He gave my belly a good hard squeeze. Then he said, ‘He does seem a little off colour. I’ll give him a shot. See if that perks him up.’

  Just the sound of it perked me up all right. I can’t stand jabs.

  The Waiter got out of the way pretty sharpish. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you can cope. I’ll just go and … do … something … over … there.’

  I was backing away into a corner, but the vet was coming for me. He had a whopping great needle in his hand.

  ‘Come on, old chap,’ he was saying. ‘Easy does it. There’s a good piggie.’

  I charged. Did the old oiled-cannonball routine. Sent the fella flying. He was clever though. I gotta admit that. As he soared through the air, he made a lunge for my back. Stuck the syringe between my shoulders before he hit the ground.

  That was when I started squealing.

  The vet lay there like a dead man until I stopped. It was quite a time. I mean it took me ages to shake the needle out. In the end, I scraped it off against the wall of my sty.

  When everything was quiet, the Waiter came back. He looked over at the vet lying there in the muck. I’d done a real good job on his boots. Couldn’t see anything in them now. He was starting to look like a proper vet.

  ‘Are you OK?’ said the Waiter.

  ‘Pardon?’ said the vet.

  ‘Are you OK?’ the Waiter said, a bit louder.

  ‘Sorry … can’t quite seem to … pardon?’ The vet was tapping the side of his head like he had water in his ears. I’d stunned his eardrums, see? He couldn’t hear a thing.

  ‘ARE YOU OK?’

  ‘Oh, about six months ago,’ said the vet.

  ‘What?’ said the Waiter.

  ‘Yes, half-past two.’

  The Waiter gave up trying to talk. He helped the vet up and let him out of my sty.

  ‘That should perk him up soon,’ said the vet. ‘But if it doesn’t… Well, he is getting on, isn’t he? If he’s not showing any interest in the sow, it might just be his age. Maybe he’s reached the end of the road.’

  What was he on about? What road? I haven’t been anywhere! Doesn’t anyone talk any sense around here? I was thinking that maybe the vet had done his head in when I knocked him over.

  But then the Waiter started nodding. ‘Well I have been thinking about it,’ he said slowly. He sounded real sad. ‘Perhaps you’re right… Maybe it’s time I brought in a new boar.’

  ‘Pardon?’ said the vet.

  • • •

  Well a new boar didn’t sound too bad to me. We could have a few drinks, share some swill, swap a few stories, compare the length of our pedigrees. Yeah, I thought, maybe I’ll get some good company for a change.

  But when Tamsin came home she went ballistic. I could hear her shouting at the Waiter all the way across the yard.

  ‘You can’t do that to Terence!’

  She was well and truly upset.

  ‘Tamsin this is a farm. A rare breeds farm. We have to face facts. He’s past it,’ said the Waiter.

  Passed what? I thought.

  ‘But it’s Terence!’ she pleaded. ‘He’s special!’

  She’s a great girl, is Tamsin.

  ‘I know, love. And I know you’re fond of him. I am too.’ The Waiter’s voice went all funny and choky for a minute. ‘But there’s only one thing we can do when animals don’t earn their keep. You know that, Tamsin.’

  ‘But…!’

  ‘No, love. I’m sorry. Things are rocky enough with t
he bank. We’re only just keeping afloat as it is. We don’t keep pets. We can’t afford it.’

  What’s he on about? I thought. Floating round rocky banks? I reckoned the Waiter had gone soft in the head.

  • • •

  Tamsin came out later, after I’d had my tucker. Her eyes were all pink and puffed up. They looked a bit like mine. She scratched my back for ages, but it was like her mind wasn’t really on it. She kept missing the really itchy bit, no matter how often I told her where it was. It was real strange because she’s usually good at understanding pig, despite my accent.

  Sometimes her eyes were leaking: she kept dripping on me and making me damp. Then she said, in a voice that was all husky and broken, ‘Oh, Terence. I’m really going to miss you.’

  I didn’t like the sound of that at all.

  Chapter Four

  Betrayed

  It was an act of low-down cunning. I was shocked. I didn’t think the Waiter was capable of such evil. I mean I knew he was a bit dodgy. I’ve seen what he can do to a chicken when it’s stopped laying, and believe me, it’s not a pretty sight. But I didn’t think he’d stoop that low. Any further down and he’d be in the sewer.

  I’d never have set foot in that lorry if I’d had my wits about me. But he drove me mad, see? He never brought me my breakfast.

  I mean have you ever heard of such an act of criminal cruelty? Can you imagine what it does to a pig of my size? The man should be reported.

  I was hanging over my gate squealing for my tucker. I watched him do the rounds of the fluffies and the woollybacks and the bendyhorns and all my wives and offspring. When he got to me, all he did was scratch my ears and say, ‘Later, Terence. You’ll have to wait.’

  Wait? Wait?! Me???

  I started screaming for the RSPCA. But by the time Tamsin was ready for school I’d gone quiet. I was on my knees, desperate for food. My head was swimming. My legs had gone all limp. Even my bristles had started to sag. I was starving, for heaven’s sake. Fading away before my piggy eyes.

  Tamsin came over. She was still all pink and puffy. ‘Oh, Terence,’ she said in this weird little choky voice. ‘You know, don’t you? You know!’ Then she started leaking again, and dripping all over me.