I’m at my desk, typing away, the sounds of 50 young children in the background as they play and glue and squeal and learn. It’s a typical day at preschool in an affluent Southern suburb, the school tucked in a neighborhood surrounded by tall trees and chirping birds.
The phone rings…
I answer and hear “You know how there are days when you just never know what’s coming next? It’s one of those days. There’s a pig in the parking lot.”
Yup. Pig in the parking lot. Of course I MUST investigate.
At the far end of the church lot, there is indeed a wee pig: a little pot-bellied piglet, to be exact, hiding in the bushes that line the parking spaces, wagging his little piggy tail, happy but nervous. A few walkers, a few friends, a curious policeman, and a nice animal control worker tried to coax the little guy into trust, so he could find his home.
There were a few moments of excitement, with him bolting out of the bushes and making a quick dash around the lot before returning to his leafy hiding place – once I had my hands on him, but I squealed at his squeal and let go (wimp, I know).
So, aptly named Edward, he finally made it to a safe place and waits to find a new home, if he hasn’t already.
He was big news in the land of Mountain Brook, and on Facebook. It’s not everyday there’s a pig in the parking lot!