Part 1 – A Muffled Oink

Ernest Hemingway once proclaimed, ‘Always do sober what you said you’d do drunk.’ He articulated what we’ve all experienced at one point or another; one consumes libations and begins talking about how they have a reservoir of fantastic ideas that will be converted into realities. Yet long after the eventual hangovers fade, nothing meaningful has changed. This is a story where the contrary happened, albeit in a peculiar way.

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Posedian himself calmed the seas when Ernest decided to sail

Image: JFK Library


January of 2016, Shanghai


Twas the night before my birthday and there we were, arms wrapped around each other singing ‘Wagon Wheel’ as a pink mop bucket full of Jungle Juice (a byproduct of American Universities) was passed around. No cups necessary for this get together as generous gulps were thrown back from what was supposed to be our sweet ayi’s new cleaning paraphernalia. As the song concluded, everyone staggered out of my apartment into the semi-organized chaos of Shanghai to get some sleep.

Only my then-girlfriend and I remained, engaging in a conversation about what I’d like for my birthday. I had watched a Youtube clip from Charlotte’s Web earlier in the day (classic, up there with The Godfather and Goodwill Hunting) so naturally told her a miniature, live pig. One of those adorable teacup pigs Paris Hilton flaunts as fashion accessories in her purses. We talked a bit more and then entered dreamland.

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Photo of us that fateful night, a few songs before Wagon Wheel and the mop bucket.



Fast forward 3 weeks


I was walking up the seven flights of stairs to my girlfriend’s apartment as she told me she had a surprise. I spritzed some portable yet potent Tim McGraw cologne behind my ears as one can never be too suave to receive a gift (and to mask the musk being formed from the lack-of-elevator climb).

I walked in and she was standing in the kitchen, possessing a concerned yet elated look on her face, holding a shoebox infront of her. Solid, she must’ve seen the fake LeBron sneakers on my internet history I’d been eyeing. Suddenly, a muffled oink emanated from the box. I looked at her as if she was simultaneously an angel and devil. 

She had brought up the notion of a mini pig a few times since my birthday but I assumed it was just chatter that would eventually lead to a cool painting or keychain. She raised the box to just below my chinny chin chin (had to sneak it in) as I gingerly lifted the top and peered inside.

A moist pig snout emerged from the ominous darkness and bumped my own nose. She let out a high-pitched giggle, placed the box on the ground, and removed the top. A live, miniature pig strutted out onto the kitchen floor and gazed up at me, locking eyes in what seemed for an eternity. My heart instantly flooded with warmth but my head told me to sprint out the door, change my number, move cities, and pretend this portion of my life never happened. 

My heart won as I squatted down to pet the little creature. I was now an interspecies father and things were about to get weird.

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Proud new father


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My sweet baby during her first night under my care, receiving her first proper shower and posing afterwards on the bedsheets (below)

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