I love pigs. I love their pinkness and how happy they are. I love the saying “happier than a pig in shit” because it’s true: no matter how much shit they’re in, they embrace it, root around in it and appreciate it.
It’s a talent, a gift, really, to appreciate those moments in life when you’re knee-deep in merde. You know you’re going to come out of it eventually, but for now, you’re stuck in it and it stinks like crazy.
These little piggies were hanging on the wall in a house we rented in Sonoma. I’ve never had a pig, nor would I really want one except to hang on a wall, like these cuties, to remind me that every day we take breath is a happy day.
Do pigs really smile? I’m asking because I’m sure one of you has had pigs or maybe even has them now. What are pigs really like? Is the saying really true–are they always happy? What can we learn from pigs?
Inquiring minds want to know.
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