Readers of this column may remember that a few weeks back I wrote about our family’s ongoing scuffle over whether or not to buy an expensive pet pig. The battle lines had this columnist on the “no” side, Mom and one daughter on the “yes” side, our 7-year-old daughter on the “sounds okay to me” side, and the 2-year-old oblivious and looking for his finger paints.
Since then, I have been on the receiving end of a full slop trough-worth of pleading and wheedling — and a forced march to visit Gone Local, a shop in Amagansett whose owner, Susan Seitz-Kulick, keeps what I have to admit is a cute piglet behind the counter.
Twinkie, as I think the little thing is called, sleeps on a pile of blankets under a desk, goes for walks on a leash, and will do tricks for treats. According to Susan, her pet pig likes my daughters, and, Susan says, Twinkie does not care for just anyone. This is a woman for whom retail comes naturally, it appears.
I should make it clear that Susan does not sell pigs. Gone Local is stuffed to the rafters with decorative objects and handmade crafts and do-dads of the sort that might appeal to gift-seekers and summer visitors looking for mementos. She adopted the piglet when her son decided he could not keep her. Oinking every now and then, the piglet startles unsuspecting customers. It’s all very cute.
Despite vocal protest on my part, the pig-wanting side of the family continues unfazed. I open a computer in the morning to find that someone has been searching for tiny pigs online and corresponding with breeders — who can charge upward of $1,500 per porker. I think it’s a scam and a fad, but the family pays me little mind.
Although my older daughter started it, my wife now insists she is getting herself a pig no matter what. Ellis, who has started nursery school, is increasingly independent, and Lisa says she wants something little again to care for. Maybe she’ll become a breeder, she says. I say if she does, the pig can live in the house; I am going to move into the shed.
She says, “Fine.”