Guinea Pigs Lie: Abercrombie

Abercrombie and Pandora

Rick was my first encounter with a lying pig, but she was a small-time liar.  Abercrombie had some serious skill in misdirection.

Pandora and Abercrombie were my first pair of pigs I cared for as an adult.  Every time they had floor-time, they would get underneath the couch, make a mess and were nearly impossible to catch.  So I constructed a cardboard wall that surrounded the couch.  Abercrombie did not approve of this.  As soon as I’d set her on the floor, she’d run to the couch and start pulling and chewing the cardboard in an effort to get past it.

She knew I didn’t like this.  I’d yell at her to stop her chewing or digging or I’d pick her up and move her to another part of the room.  One evening I was making dinner while my husband watched TV and the pigs ran loose.  I peeked into the living room every few minutes to check out the pigs and converse with my husband.  Each time I looked in, I saw Abercrombie curled up with Pandora under a table farthest from the couch.  She appeared to be sacked out.

Sacked out Abercrombie

Suddenly my husband burst out laughing.  Why?  As soon as I returned to the kitchen, Abercrombie dashed across the room and furiously chewed and tugged on the barrier.  When she heard me walking towards the living room, she’d run back to Pandora and settle down like she hadn’t budged, lounging on the floor.  To me it appeared as if she sat there, sweet and innocent, the whole time.

I had to see this for myself.  I walked out of the living room, kicked off my shoes and tip-toed back to the doorway.  Sure enough, there was Abercrombie attempting to get under the couch.  I cleared my throat and she darted back to the other side of the room and nestled down.  Seriously.  I watched her take the time to look nonchalant.  On purpose.  I kid you not.

What a bad pig!  But how can you not love little pig deviousness?