squeals of delight
This little piggy went to market.
This little piggy stayed home.
This little piggy had plant-based-vegan roast beef.
This little piggy had none.
And this little piggy went wee, wee, wee, all the way into the backyard on a mild-mannered August afternoon...
Yeah, okay. It doesn't rhyme, but the original version rhymed home with home, which, poetically speaking, is the ultimate cop out. If you ask me, This Little Piggy Went to Market could have stood a few more creative revisions before that little piggy went to press. Also, for two people immersed almost exclusively in British entertainment options, the wee, wee, wee bit comes off less like the distress of imminent slaughter and more like a willful incontinence issue, and I don't think a nursery rhyme simultaneously promoting animal cruelty and endorsing children's toe dismemberment should also plant such obvious seeds of rebellion in reluctant potty-training youngsters.
Friday was, as most of your calendars will confirm, a workday, but, despite being International Cat Day--which I will highlight with this ultra-close-up shot of our own resident Miss Malcolm (who was, at this moment, feeling especially international)--it was a day less whiskered and more curly tailed. Friday was, in fact, all about the pigs.
Well, technically, it was all about Maisie, but pigs played an unusually prominent role for a household not sheltering a single sentient swine.
A quickly assembled lunch was the order of the day. We had an hour-long break, as is the corporate custom, but if we were to set up seating and supplies for an impromptu outdoor picnic, the food preparation needed to be done in haste--preferably something decidedly picnicky. Enter: pigs in blankets. Sort of. This is a vegetarian household, so the "pigs" consisted of veggie dogs and the blankets were, in fact, tortillas, wrapped around the piggies with a nice adhesive layer of cheese. All of this was rapidly achieved in an electric skillet, right up to the point that our neighborhood's power inconsiderately went out. Fortunately, the food was nearly done by then, so we determinedly kept pressing the wrapped-tight veggie dogs onto the surface of the skillet, attempting to extract whatever remaining heat we could in order to melt the rest of the cheese. Mission (mostly) accomplished.
Maisie settled onto her blanket, eagerly devouring a few small biscuits. Perched upon zero-gravity chairs (that, by all accounts, are in no way immune to Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation), Dennie and I enjoyed the rare treat of a less-healthy-than-usual, yet tasty, midday meal, one that was, at best, warmish. Nonetheless, it was a wonderful way to spend a weekday lunch, out in the fresh air, listening to the sweet symphony of birdsong, and relishing the contented smile upon our dog's face.
When Dennie retreated—back to the grind—I surprised Maisie with a prolonged stay outdoors. It's been almost non-stop book promotion this summer, without the gratifying writing days that both calm and enliven me and keep me grounded. If I needed a little time to unwind, to let go of recent stresses and engage in a sort of mental reset, certainly my loyal canine assistant did too. Though our daily walks with Maisie are sublime--an invigorating way to start the days--she and I were in desperate need of some carefree, playful "Mommy and Me" time. I grabbed my cutest sneakers, selected a bandana from my dog's summer wardrobe, and we got that party started in style.
Birthdays, holidays, and other special occasions mean prettily wrapped presents for our pampered pooch, but then there are other days that invite just because gifts: just because you're cute, just because you've had a rough day, or, in this case, just because Mommy loves you and she found this adorable little piggy wearing swim trunks.
Can you blame me? I mean, first of all, perfectly precious puppy here. Secondly, a pig in swimwear...with heart-shaped sunglasses. That's just a captivating combo of categorical cuteness.
I placed Maisie's soon-to-be porcine pal on the seat of my chair to snap a quick photo--you know, before any ears or limbs got torn asunder. My intent was to then offer the waterproof plush to her, as we would any other gift, only this time her curiosity was piqued in a whole new way. Somehow, she'd deduced that toy was destined to be hers. Her mouth arced into a gentle smile. She approached the chair, eyes flitting between my own gladdened expression and the newcomer. Maisie is a dog who never takes what isn't hers. Even if she knows something is meant for her, she'll wait until an item is given or until she is granted permission to claim it for herself. This isn't anything we've taught her. She is simply a dog with impeccable manners. And so she waited in front of the chair, grinning, glowing with anticipation.
"It's all right," I said. "You can say hello, baby.”
Two mighty shepherd paws lifted to the seat as Maisie's nose drew closer to the pig's waiting snout. She peered up at me again and smiled.
"That's for Maisie...Maisie's piggy."
Gingerly, my dog eased forward, grasping the toy into her mouth and trotting cheerfully back to her blanket. We played. We laughed. We let go of all other obligations and took plenty of pictures (more me than her as those big puppy paws have a heck of a time hitting that little button on the camera). Smiles fluttered around us like swallowtails in summer, and our hearts rejoiced with the joie de vivre of puckish pigs in a puddle. We stayed until Maisie was ready to go inside, then we returned to the backyard for another short round of recreation just before dinner. It was the best kind of afternoon: unhurried, unburdened, completely unscripted...and, yes, even a tad unhinged, as the most fabulous occasions are. And now we leave that Friday behind with mirthful memories, quiet gratitude, and one beach-buddy piglet's spirited squeals of delight.