FRISKY
Circa 1985. I'm nine years old. Suddenly I can have a furry pet!
I went to the library and read everything they had (which was like one book) to learn how to take care of a
g.p. We found a darling piggy at a pet store that I picked out, Butterscotch, and we were all set to get her after we found a cage. But then Dad found a pig in the paper who had all the supplies too
for really cheap so we went to check it out. I wasn't that impressed with Frisky but I felt like a responsible pet owner needed to keep cost in mind (yes, I thought like that when I was nine) so we took her home. We've since had about 10 or 12 pigs and they have brought me tons of joy. I will probably always have pigs around. (We ended up getting Butterscotch for my brother.)
I remember turning on the light many times the first night she was home to see what she was doing. She ran away from me at first when I tried to catch her. That's how she got the name "Frisky." Seems dumb now but I guess it was creative enough for a kid.
Frisky was my best friend of all time. I did everything with her. She was one of those pigs who didn't really like anyone else in the house all that much and certainly didn't like any other pigs but she loved me like nothing else. She was a beautiful Teddy with black, brown, and white markings. One of her ears was missing half its fur and she had a funny toe on one back foot. We had all kinds of adventures. I took her on bike rides and to the 4-H fair
(she won blue ribbons, which she ate) and trick-or-treating. I put her in
the back of my Barbie Corvette with a pink knit hat on her head and drove her
around the carpet. Frisky died after surgery for a large cancerous tumor when she was about six years old. I was a freshman in high school by then but she was still the biggest part of my life.
No other pig will ever match Frisky but I wouldn't want anyone to, either.