When an animal is adopted from Catskill Animal Sanctuary, her adopter understands that the adoption is for the life of the animal. This is to ensure that ALL our animal friends remain loved and cared for throughout their lives. If an adopter’s circumstances change—loss of job, loss of house, illness, etc.—and the adopter can no longer care for her animals, those animals must come back to Catskill Animal Sanctuary. This part of our contract is carefully pointed out and reviewed with each adopter before we send our animals off to their new lives.
Petunia, our very first pig, came back today. Tiny Rubenstein, the human who loved and cared for her and so many others, died of cancer. We wish Tiny’s family our deepest sympathy and the love and support of their community of friends.
As our first introduction to the porcine world, Petunia taught us well and quickly the lessons one must learn if she is to survive spending time with a pig. There were many, trust me. Here are the first three:
Pigs want what they want when they want it, and they want it with every fiber of their being.
We learned this lesson when Petunia broke into the kitchen, climbed with her front legs on a chair, grabbed a volunteer’s lunch, and hightailed it out of the barn, gobbling the lunch before we knew what happened.
Pigs are drama queens.
Prior to Petunia’s arrival, we knew only anecdotally of this proclivity. So it was baptism by fire when she arrived one summer day in 2003 and refused to leave her trailer.
“She’s gonna scream,” her surrenderers offered in the way of help. But they didn’t offer to driver her closer to the barn or to take her in themselves. They had no harness, so I looped a lead rope under her neck, thinking I could simply encourage her with words and gentle tugs.
Apparently it was time for the lesson: it takes very little to make a pig hysterical. On a single exhale, Petunia’s deep growls became a deafening, high-pitched, “I know you’re trying to kill me!” scream, and in an instant, I was flat on the ground, being dragged down the driveway by a pig whom I could neither control nor comfort. I let go.
Pigs can barrel past, through, or over a human as if that human were, oh, a blade of grass
See story above.
We welcomed our friend back with open arms, open hearts, and a good long chuckle….
