Beefy's Family of Origin #3

My first memory is nuzzling. It was cool weather, and I’m not sure if it was spring or fall because after that there is a pause in my memory. I do remember cuddling with my mom and my sisters and brothers. I was so lucky because the straw smelled fresh and my mother moved around freely. I have since learned, sadly so, that many friends of mine did not benefit from such a sweet start and instead were in small stalls with metal bars and concrete.

I don’t recall how many siblings I had - just that they whimpered and squealed and apparently liked cuddling as much as me. Although occasionally we would have a little disagreement and snipping if someone wasn’t able to get the food that was tossed to us.

I later remember being outside with my mother and my siblings. I could see the sky and feel the breeze.

We would be eat twice a day - corn cobs and leftovers. Again, I later came to learn that many friends of mine are served not so tasty things.

How sad?? Do you know what it’s like to be in a pen with no way out and served some slop that no one with any freedom would ever choose to eat.

I once overheard someone say pigs had eaten a farmer who fell into the pen. Not to condone this, but I must profess that very likely the pigs were not being served anything decent. Who would ever choose a human unless their palate was so unsophisticated? Seriously!!

Sometime in my youth, my siblings were taken away. Eventually my mother disappeared too. And, I was moved to another pen - a little bigger and nicer and all by myself. It was then that my diet improved even more. More apples, more lettuce, sometimes cake.

In the beginning, the whole change felt different and not so good. I was used to being with my mother and siblings.

I can’t remember my dad at all - I think he was nearby, but I’m not sure.

New pigs came to the farm and had babies.

And, gradually I began going out for walks in the woods. This is when I first noticed my nose twitching.

I would smell this smell - a compelling smell. And I would run for it.

What a crazy thing! I would press my nose into the leaves and dirt, and voila there would be all these brown and round things - and my human friend was so excited, elated!

They would give me treats and rub my head - I didn’t really like that, and I wanted to tell them I missed my mother.

But anytime I said something the human did not seem to hear me. It was odd, because I always knew what they were saying. I just couldn’t seem to tell them I knew. We had what I think you call a language barrier.

It’s like you know so much more than anyone knows you know, but you can’t seem to convey it to them. How painful is that?