I am now officially afraid of pigs. Pigs are of the family Suidae, having short legs, cloven hooves, bristly hair, and a cartilaginous snout used for digging. Maybe that’s why they say here suey suey suey, only it’s really here sui sui sui. But I digress.
Suidaephobia. I made up the word. It sounds plausible, though.
I recently read (yes, I actually sat down to read a book!) a snippet about a man who remembered as a boy that he lost his dog, and deep down inside he knew that the dog went to the hogs. Or, more explicitly, the dog went snooping around as dogs so often do, and snooped his way into the pig pen, and was narry seen again. The horror of the story is that the pigs gobbled him up. This was at the heart of the man’s trust issues, or issues with authority, as his parents and until-then-trusted-adults had all told him the dog had run off. But I digress.
Reading this snippet brought to mind a scene from Hannibal, a very disturbing film, in which two of my favorite actors, Gary Oldman and Anthony Hopkins, discuss the matter of pigs. The matter being that pigs eat everything, bones and all. Of course, the pigs in this thriller were trained to be ragingly carnivorous. Such an awful film. But I digress.
Thinking of Hannibal brought to mind other references about pigs, most likely from The Sopranos and the matter of disposing of evidence, as pigs thoroughly consume every bit of it.
Who would have ever thought that the subject of cute children’s tales and nursery rhymes would be so sinister And here I am, nicknamed phonetically after these horrifying creatures.
I wonder if there is some hidden meaning or menace in my blog name. It is, after all, about a piggie. Ah, but the piggie is squished. I must have known all along that they were no good.
