Beauty Dish

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

Frankie update: The culprit is found, but what to do??? I made a series of telephone calls this late morning. I knew that the pig droppers had to be acquaintances of mine, as they clearly knew I am the neighborhood strange multi-animal lady. I don't discuss my menagerie with Avon customers, so that narrowed the search to direct neighbors (unlikely, I know all of them and their pets) and families who also have children at my boys' elementary school (bingo!). I called some of the other room mothers and six phone calls later I determined that one family has a miniature potbellied pig and was looking for a new home for said pig. This family has one child, a boy the same age as my son, 10, and he is known for being a bully and a general behavior problem child in class. Great. I don't want to cause a rift between classmates, especially involving a young boy with personality issues, so confronting the family is out. Meanwhile, Frankie scratched a cubist design on my laundry room door and pooped on the Mexican blankets. In the words of Charlotte: Some Pig. 1:34:30 PM    doorbell  []   Frankie Bacon My youngest son, 7, woke me at four a.m. with a scream and the crash of a plastic star ship careening off the dresser. "Mom! Mom! Mooooooooooooooooom!" He yelled across the house as I struggled to wake. "Mom! Mom! Mooooooooooooooooom!" "Hey shut up! I'm sleeping!" 17 pounded on the wall separating their rooms and I heard 10 talking, trying to calm his brother in a reassuring voice. "What's going on out there!" I headed for the hall, tripped over the dog and smacked my elbow against a corner. "Ouch! Hey! What's all the ruckus about?" 7 sat on the lower bunk, shaking, pointing to the window. "Someone's outside! I think it's a ghost!" "Oh Lord, there's nobody outside. You must have heard the wind. I'll go outside and check, come on, come with me, we'll check together." I grabbed his hand and dragged him to the front door, 10 and 17 and dog on our tail. Suzie heard it first. She growled, white hair up in mohawk shackles, and she leaped to reach the door first, growls erupting into barks. I let go of 7's hand, pointed to the couch and turned to stare at the boys. "Sit down and wait!" I snuck up to Suzie, peered out the opaque etched glass, saw no reflection of person or ghost, but something small, low to the ground, moving in circles, tangled. A lost dog? I pushed Suzie aside and opened the door a crack. A baby pot-bellied pig rose his snout and gave a bleat. A long black leash snarled through his legs and neck, one end tied to the handle of my door. He wore a red leather harness with silver studs and a three-sentence note was duct-taped to the collar: My name is Frankie Bacon. Please give me a good home. We know you love animals. I scooped him into my arms and headed to the laundry room. He's still there, two hours later, laying on two folded Mexican blankets next to the furnace. I locked Suzie in my bedroom, and forced all three boys back to bed. What in the world do you do with a pot-bellied pig? 6:34:26 AM    doorbell  []

© Copyright 2007 Birdie Jaworski. Last update: 11/26/07; 5:34:08 AM.