Like sailors crossing the ancient Aegean when word came from another ship that the great Pan was dead, we were all shocked into silence Saturday night when Kelley received a text that Porkchop, the neighborhood pig, had passed on. We were, in fact, all having coffee in our little front patio area that we refer to as "the pork store," in homage to Satriale's from The Sopranos.
What will we all remember about this seemingly always asleep little creature? How he was seemingly always asleep? The time we drove by and there was a little line of fuschia bows tied down his back? The way his sibling dogs just walked by him, obliviously? The morning he ran through the streets, squealing "First snow!"?
Godspeed, porcine voyageur!
[pictured: Li'l Cait, unable to believe there is a fucking pig in our neighborhood, summer 2010; lump in background is Porkchop]
No comments:
Post a Comment