The Optimist

[itsmecindi]

Fred came into the house one evening last week carrying the runt of Hannah's litter. The difference between Fred and I, is that I knew on sight that this little pig wasn't going to make it. I would have left it where it was, and gone about my business.

I've seen too many runts go the same way. They get kicked out of the milk line one too many times and they just never catch up. Even if you bring them in the house and feed them by hand, they are always weak and sickly and the first time they get stepped on or they catch a cold, they are goners, and die a worse, longer, harder death, than just letting nature take it's course. Fred doesn't see these things as he has to work outside the farm.

"Make me a penicillin shot and fix me up some of that milk replacer." He instructed, as he turned the little boar over and over, examining it.

"No." I replied. "You fix a penicillin shot and you make the milk replacer. I'm sick and I'm going to bed." I had been suffering for days with a serious cold.

"Well, you're a fine help."

"Fred....that piglet is as good as dead."

"How do you know?"

"I can tell from here without even touching it that it has no body heat, it's not protesting the fact that you're holding it in the house, and it hasn't opened it's eyes since you came in the door." I put my hand on his shoulder. "If I didn't feel so bad, I would humor you, but this cold is kicking my butt and I can barely do the things that have to be done. I just have no energy to invest in something that's a waste of time."
I didn't want to squash his hope, but I was dead on my feet and not in the mood to play step'n'fetch it.

"That's kind of cold, isn't it?" He said, looking at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

"Well I know it seems that way, but it's not really coldness, it's resignation and I know what I'm talking about. I spend way yonder more time with the piglets than you do. You do what you like, but it's a waste of time and resources. That piglet has pneumonia. He's probably dying right now. We might be able to save it if we took it to the vet, but the three hundred dollar vet bill is going to far outweigh anything we are able to sell the pig for down the road." I was slightly stung by the 'coldness' remark, and now I was wasting even more valuable energy defending myself.

Being a diehard optimist, he gave the shot, and he gave the milk replacer. He wrapped the piglet in two towels that he had warmed in the dryer, placed it carefully in a cardboard box, plugged the a/c vent that leads to the bathroom, and closed the bathroom door to keep out drafts. I took an overdose of Niquil and went to bed.

About four a.m. I woke up needing the bathroom. The piglet was in it's box by the sink. As I passed by, I bent down and nudged it with the tip of my finger and it's entire body moved. It was stiff as a board. Rigor mortis had already begun to set in. I felt terrible. All his efforts gone to nothing. But I also felt vindicated. How could he think that I was just too lazy to try?

When I got back to bed he was just getting up.

"Your patient didn't make it." I told him. He didn't say anything for a long time, and then....

"I guess that makes you real happy."

"Of course it doesn't make me happy."

"Want to say 'I told you so' now? Or save it for later."

"Look Fred." I sat up in bed. "Do you know how many piglets just like that one that I have tried to save? Do you know how hard it is to work on one for ten hours straight, and the minute you get too tired to try anymore and leave it for ten minutes it dies? The only way for you to know how that feels is to let you experience it first hand. The next time I tell you to let it go, maybe you'll let it go."

"What's it hurt to try?" He said stubbornly.

"Once you bang your head against the wall so many times, you learn, I used to do the same thing until it got to where it hurt too much. I think it's wonderful that you care, but please give me a little credit for knowing what I'm doing, and never, ever insinuate that I don't care, or that I don't try hard enough."

He got ready for work and we didn't say another word to each other, until he called me later that morning and apologized for doubting me, and for leaving the piglet for me to dispose of.

"Well for future reference, I am not a cold person, I am a practical person, okay?" That remark was still working on my heart.

"I know, I know, I guess it was just desperation. I apologize for that."

"If you're here and a situation like this arises and you feel the need to try, then you go right ahead, and I will never say anything to you about it, but when I know it's a lost cause and say so, don't tell me that I have no heart. And just so you know, I wish I had been wrong."

"I know." He said gently.

"Look at it this way, if nothing else you gave it a place to die in peace, a warm, quiet, dry environment, where it wouldn't be stepped on and pushed around. That's worth something, right? I think you are one of the most caring, compassionate people I have ever met and I wouldn't have you any other way."

Silence from his end.

"And just for the record, one day when I'm old, and sick, and maybe dying, I'd be proud to have you on my side." I smiled then, at the sudden vision of him wrapping my skinny old, frail body, in warm towels.

He hung up abruptly, the same thing he always does when the conversation turns too mushy for his taste, and I felt the sting of the beginning of a tear. A tear of gratitude that somehow, some way, in the grand scheme of life, with all the odds firmly stacked against us, I had found this wonderful, warm man, and he had found me and we are now us. It just don't get no better than that. /forums/images/graemlins/grin.gif

 

[RichZ]

Cindi, I know that you're right, and I certainly don't think you're cold, but I would have done the same as Fred. As you said, the least that would happen is the poor thing would die in a peaceful warm place. And maybe, just maybe, it would beat the odds. Sometimes that has to happen. I feel every living thing deserves a shot. I've taken care of literally hundreds of animals, that I knew had no chance, but at least they had a peaceful death.

Then again, if I were taking care of as many piglets as you are, I might feel the same as you. Tough call. Neither of you are wrong.

But the piglet had an easier death, and that's the important thing.

 

[rdam]

Mmmm, I do enjoy reading you. That's almost as good as the dog tied up in front of the store. I'd say I shed a tear while reading it. But I'm a manly man, I own a tractor, I can't admit that. /forums/images/graemlins/frown.gif

Rick

 

[itsmecindi]

Rich....you and Fred are a lot alike. I can tell by the things you say. He's rough as a cobb to the casual observor but on the inside, soft as puddin'. Course if he knew I knew that he'd have to kill me. /forums/images/graemlins/grin.gif

Rick....I know that men cry, I accept that, and I'm fine with it. As long as they don't do it in front of me. It breaks my heart to see a man cry. I've only ever seen Fred shed a tear twice in twenty years. The time I told him that I didn't think I could have any kids, and the day our first child was born. Glad you liked the story.

 

[patrickg]

Never raised a pig but raised rabbits in the back yard of a city house. As rabbits are wont to do they overpopulated their pens (hutches) so I just let the overflow run wild in the back yard where they had babies in nests in the grass. Some were not good mothers and abandoned the baby bunnies when they were mostly pink and naked, barely covered with a little white fuzz.

I picked up a whole nest of them that were cold to the touch, wet with morning dew, and barely wiggling. I took them inside, and fed them milk made from powdered milk at 2-3 times the normal powder to water ratio and if I recall, honey added in as well. I used an eye dropper and pumped them up till it ran out of their noses and somehow they didn't get enough in their airways or lungs to choke or get pneumonia. I put scalding hot water in glass bottles then put the bottles inside wool socks and put the bunnies and the bottles in a shoebox with a towel in the bottom. As they survived a few days and begin to grow, I used the blender to mix in Purina Rabbit Chow into their milk.

As I was a tough ex-miliitary SAC trained killer going to school on the GI bill and hassling with peacenik pinko hippies on a daily basis, I couldn't be seen carying "my" babies to class so my wife took the shoebox to work with her. I included a wind up alarm clock so the regular tick tock would comfort them like their mom's heartbeat when in the womb. My wife would change out the hot water when it cooled and give them feedings with the eye dropper every so often. Later we went to a minature baby bottle (for dolls) but it was a mixed success. We kept offering them Purina Rabit Chow and with wider spaced milk opportunities they eventually switched over.

With a lot of luck plus our "by guess and by golly" uninformed ministrations, they all survived. The funniest thing about them was watching them search through the copious long hair of our male Afghan Hound looking for a way to nurse.

Pat