My faithful companion

I got you for my birthday,

you fitted comfortably in my hands.

Mum said you were a micro pig,

one that wouldn’t grow pass the size of a cat.

At the time I was going through a low but when you snuggled up on my lap you made me smile.

I called you Pip, Pip the pig.

As you grew so did I.

You grew pass the size of a collie dog, no longer my little pig.

You grew and grew hardly fitting on your bed.

I had to fight for you to stay.

Mum said a pot belly pig should not live in the house.

I plead my case.

You are more than a pig. You are

a listening ear when I’ve had a bad day at school.

You are a conversation starter who surprises others who think I’m talking about a dog.

I love to take you on walks in your bright red harness.

You waddle down the street sniffing at the flowers.

Oinking your approval of acceptable strangers.

At night time you took up most of my bed but I don’t mind, your like a huge soft toy I can cuddle.

Over the years our walks got less and less.

You developed a tumour on your neck which hindered your breathing.

As you laid there on the cold metal table struggling to breathe I knew what I had to do.

I didn’t want to let you go.

I didn’t want you to suffer.

I held your trotter in my hands and kissed you gentle on the forehead as you closed your eyes and fell into a endless dream.