Already? All right!

There's a pig in my yard.

Oh dear. This isn't going to be the best thing in the world for poor Kodi,
I'd wager.

He's a little black potbellied pig, about the size of a pickle jar,
with a bit of cloth tied around his neck. I only spotted him because I
heard a little snuffling grunt as I was fishing for my keys.  Opening
the door, I set my groceries inside and sit down on the step to watch.

% Hmm. Kodi shopping for groceries. I do believe that is a first for me to
see.

He comes slowly up the front walk to the step, pauses, turns to his
left and walks out into the lawn, stops, turns back and crosses the
walk, passing under my legs, steps out onto the lawn again, turns back
again, and bumps against my foot.

Yep. That's Ryouga for you.

Raising his head, he blinks at me.

"Hello, there," I say.  "What's your name?"

He seems to consider that, then gives a little squeal:  Bweeee?

"I don't suppose you speak Japanese.  I'm afraid I don't speak pig."

He shakes his head, for all the world as if he understood me.  How
charming!  He must be someone's pet; he's well-trained and, well, there
aren't a lot of stray pigs in Tokyo.

"Are you lost?"

Is he breathing? Might as well be the same question since you're going to
get the same answer. ^_^

He nods this time, and so I gather him into my hands.  He struggles at
first, but calms as I cradle him against my chest.  I step into the
house and close the door.

There once was a horse named Clever Hans, who could, his owner claimed,
answer simple math problems by tapping a hoof.  It turned out, however,
that Hans was simply watching the reactions of the people around him to
tell when he had tapped his hoof enough times.  I know I must have been
giving off similar clues, and that his

 is

how this little pig knew to shake
and nod his head, but it's still very tempting to think that this is
not  a specially trained pig, but simply a special pig.

He's something, all right.

He's fallen asleep.  I set him on the countertop while I put my
groceries away.  I know he's someone's pet, but I am so tempted to keep
him anyway.

Oh my. History is going to be somewhat different now.

This place feels empty without my brother.

I put on some rice.  Do pigs eat rice?  I've been cooking simpler meals
since my brother has gone--the nice ones take more work than they're
worth, and plain rice with a few vegetables seems like enough for just
me.  The pig is awake again; the counter must be uncomfortable.

"I'm going to mash some rice for you," I tell him.  "I hope you like
it.  I haven't cooked for anyone in a while."  He nods.  So cute.

I haven't had a pet in ages.  When I was younger, I wanted a kitten,
but Mama said it would be hard to take care of, and hinted that Daddy
might be willing to buy me a turtle.

So this is Mr. Green Turtle's origin. Heh.

Well, a turtle wasn't a kitten,
but I could play with it, and it could eat from my hand, and I could
have it in a little glass cage in my room at night.  A turtle would be
okay, I thought.  So I asked Daddy for a turtle for Christmas.

Christmas came, and under the tree was a red box with holes in the
sides.  I opened it, and inside was an ugly little lizard-thing that bit
me.

"It's a baby alligator," Daddy said.  "Gonna grow up big and strong.
Gonna have lotsa sharp teeth."  He gave a great big laugh, slapping his
thighs.  "Sharp sharp teeth."  Mama looked at me helplessly.

"It's not a turtle," I whispered.

"Maybe . . . maybe you could name it 'Turtle?'" Mother whispered back.

I dropped it on the floor, where it crouched unmoving.  Tatchi got down
and poked it with his finger, and it tried to bite him.

Smart gator.

 I ran for the

stairs, up to my room, and Mother came after me.

"I'm sorry, Kotchi," she said, as I lay on my bed sobbing.  "Your Daddy
found out about the baby alligators and thought one would be good
protection for you.  I tried to talk him out of it, but you know how he
is."

Crazy.

"You said I could have a turtle," I moaned.  "You said.  But Daddy
bought a horrible monster and you let him."  She just stood in the
doorway, looking sad.  But the turtle was just a compromise, and I
really wanted a kitten . . .

Am I crying?  I reach up and touch my eyes.  I am crying.  I can't
believe I'm crying over something that happend

happened

when I was eleven.  "I
really wanted a kitten," I whisper.

Well, if you wait long enough, and someone screws up an address on a box,
you might just get your wish. ^_^

The pig nudges my arm and looks up at me.  I gather him up and hug him,
burying my face in his stiff bristles.  I'm keeping him.  I don't care
who he belongs to, he's mine now.  Possession is nine-tenths of the
law.

"I wanted a kitten," I say, and kiss his snout.  "Will you be my little
black kitten?  I know you're not a cat, but I'm good at pretending."  He
seems stunned.  I hug him again.  "I've had lots of practice, and I know
you can't purr."

Don't be so sure, not after you kissed him. Ryouga can be pretty adaptable
when he tries.

I stir-fry some vegetables to go with the rice, then we share a meal.
I wonder what happened to Midorigame?  My brother must have gotten rid
of her.  Midorigame learned not to bite me, but my brother always had to
watch his feet.

I take Kuroneko up to my room.

Hehehe. Like the name.

Nice work.

D.B. Sommer