‘Twas a crisp, fall day when I accidentally diddled a pig. My mother brought our family down to the local homecoming fair. It was one of those iconic New England fairs with hayrides, scarecrow building, face painting, apple crisp, cider, fried dough, and a lovely little petting zoo. I went around booth to booth picking and choosing what I chose to do. Finally, I found myself fun with farm animals.
It was probably one of those situations where you pay twenty five cents for handful of farm food. Then you feed it to fun, furry friends and pet them as they frolic. I was three years old when this all happened. I didn’t know any better.
My mother had left me under the supervision of the animal caretakers. Perhaps my brother was in some sort of pie eating contest. Perhaps my sister with buying a trinket of some sort. Whatever the case, I was all alone to roam with baby sheep, goats, pigs, and the like.
I was feeding a lamb lovely little pellets when a pig approached me. The pig was friendly and I got a little too intimate. I began to play with its cute curly-cue tail.
Butt, what was this little hole beneath its tail? As I played with the tail, I got more and more curious.
Then it happened. I touched his little butt hole, noted that there was an infinite amount of space for me to enter my finger, and went in for the plunge. I stuck my whole finger up that pig’s ass! Then, I knew it was time for me to take it out. But it wouldn’t come out! I yanked and pulled but my finger wouldn’t budge out of his butt. I became concerned.
“Mom?” I cried.
Like the light at the end of the tunnel, I saw my mom rushing to my rescue. Perhaps she was laughing. Perhaps she questioned what she had given birth to. Perhaps she didn’t know what to think. She pulled my little hand out of the little pig’s butt, washed me up in an outhouse, and that was that.
She still tells the story to this day. I wish I recalled this memory as vividly as her, because it makes for a fun little story about fingering a furry friend.