The Tiny Vase

My wife Cathy hates pigs. It goes back to a childhood incident on her grandparents’ farm in Alabama. They raised cotton, chickens, dairy cows, and pigs. For reasons only a kid could understand, she and her cousins had an attraction to the pig pen and loved playing in it.

She even got in trouble once for climbing onto one of the swine. An uncle spotted her and yelled to get off before she “rode the bacon right off of him.”

As a young child, while the whole farm was an exciting place for fun and adventure, the pig pen stayed the central attraction.

Then came the day of the tiny vase. 

Cath was playing by herself inside the pen when a flash of blue caught her eye on the far side. It was a tiny blue vase, sitting there in the muck. Driven by childhood curiosity, she started wading across the pen to retrieve it. 

That’s when the pigs decided to object.

As she approached the vase, the pigs grew agitated. They began crowding around her, pushing in close, and a few even nipped at her. Realizing trouble was brewing, Cath weighed her options. Turning back meant retreating through the mob, but the vase was just a few feet ahead. Not to be deterred, she pressed on.

In the chaos, one of the sows knocked her down in the mud and muck. She scrambled back to her feet, reached out, and grabbed her prize. Covered in grime but victorious, she escaped over the fence on that side of the pen.

Ever since that day, she has harbored a deep grudge against pigs.

Mind you, she doesn’t hate pork. In fact, she’s quite enthusiastic about eating it—bacon, chops, pork loin, tenderloin, and ribs are all fair game. Who knows? Maybe there’s a little poetic justice at play.

Cath kept that simple little vase and still has it to this day. It stands only about two inches tall. If you visit our farm, you will often see it quietly on display with one or two small garden flowers tucked inside.

It sits there, pretty and calm, holding a story it cannot tell. But if you ask Cathy about the vase, she’ll be more than happy to fill you in.

While her version may be simpler or more elaborate than what I shared here, she always starts with the exact same three words: “I hate pigs.”

As the Newspaper Editor says at the end of the John Wayne/Jimmy Stewart film The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, “When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”

Postscript: Looking back now, Cathy thinks she remembers that a couple of the sows had new piglets at the time. A mother’s fierce protection of her young might well explain all the agitation, though it doesn’t change Cath’s stance on pigs.