“What’s going on?” I wondered aloud.
“You’re moving,” Sam One said, as if it were no big deal. The place was full of boxes. The books had disappeared from the shelves. The table where Mom worked—well, where she talked on the phone, anyway—was bare. Even the counter in the bathroom was missing the usual necessities…and it was no big deal? It seemed like a very big deal to me. The last time I saw so many boxes stacked up, I was in one of them.
“Humans move all the time,” Sam One went on to explain, “and these humans more than most. Don’t ask me why. I suspect they’re gypsies.”
“I’m a bird of habit,” I lamented. “I dislike change. How did I end up in a traveling circus?”
“No, of course not!”
“Then shut up and quit complaining,” he told me.
I felt pretty stupid at that moment. “I wonder where we’re going?”
“I’ll be glad when it’s all over,” Schatzi grumbled as she came into the room. “I hate moving.”
I looked at Sam One. “See? I’m not the only one.”
“Be happy you all have a home,” Sam One reminded us. “Not all creatures do. There are far too many dogs, cats and even birds out there cold and hungry, with no place to call home.”
“I still hate it,” Schatzi maintained.
Iggy looked at her. “You hate it?” she asked. “I’m the one who gets fed tranquilizers in my food and hauled out in a trailer.”
“Maybe if you were smaller….” Schatzi suggested.
“I’m a pig!” Iggy snapped. “I’m never going to be a skinny mini! Anyway, who are you to talk? You’re fatter than you should be!”
“It’s hormonal,” Schatzi said.
“Yeah. Keep telling yourself that, Bubblebutt.”
“How many times are we going to move, anyway?” I wondered as we watched Mom and Grandma packing boxes.
“I dunno,” Sam One said. “She moved several times when I was alive, too. The important thing isn’t where you live, but that you’re all together.”
He was right…but the frequent moves would still prove frustrating.
“I heard Mom say there’s someone coming,” Iggy said. “A building inspector, or something like that.”
“What’s a building inspector?” I asked.
“Don’t know,” Iggy grumbled, “but as long as he leaves me alone, I’ll leave him alone.”
No such luck.
The man came the next day, checking things that made no sense to any of us. When he came into the bedroom, I figured there was going to be trouble. He didn’t realize what a mistake he was making when he stepped on Iggy’s blanket. For a pig of her, uh, size, she can move pretty fast when she feels threatened.
She went on the attack…and he ran!
Later, I heard Mom telling Grandma about a conversation she’d had with someone connected to the building inspector: “He said he thought the inspector had been drinking. The guy told him he’d been attacked by a three-hundred-pound hog in the bedroom!”
Iggy was insulted. “Three hundred pounds? He needs his eyes examined—and his head, too, while he’s at it!”
“Bite me, Bubblebutt!” Iggy snapped.
Schatzi almost did. “Just remember, I bite back,” Iggy warned.
“You have no sense of humor,” Schatzi grumbled, backing off.
“Not true. I happen to be a very funny pig,” Iggy insisted.
“Funny looking, yeah.”
“Break it up, you two,” Sandy said, waddling into the room. “I was trying to sleep.”