We had once visited a farm when our son was very small. On this particular visit we made friends with a tiny little black and white piglet named "Oink" who was very much the runt of his litter. Griffin was instantly smitten and decided right then and there that a little pig would be the perfect house pet (I personally thought it would be pretty cool too, but as a parent married to another parent who thought otherwise, I wisely kept these sentiments to myself). No amount of gentle explanations of the reality of such a situation could dissuade Griffin from his firm belief that a pig is no different than a dog, especially that a) a pig does not stay three pounds for long, b) pigs as a general rule do not live in the same house as their people family c) a full-grown pig sleeping in your bed with you like the family dog would most likely result in broken bed, broken bones or completely suffocated child, d) a 450 pound adult pig thundering up and down the front stairway would spell nothing less than catastrophe for anyone unfortunate enough to be caught either ascending or descending said staircase at the same time as the pig, or e) the cat and the dog would both need extensive therapy to recover from the shock of sharing their quiet home with a smelly, aggressive animal the size of a small car.
And then my husband had his own set of issues regarding pigs-as-pets. As both an elected and appointed official in several different positions within our town government, and already having a wife who he considers often far more eccentric than any of the other political wives in town, he was rather against adding anything more to our lives that would only reinforce the notion that I wasn't normal. When still attempting to counter Griffin's arguments for a pig with, "How would the pig feel when the dog goes for a walk and the pig has to stay home alone?" our son replied that the pig could be walked on a leash right along with our dog. To which my husband turned to me and asked if I would actually walk the pig on a leash down our street and I said, "Sure, why the hell not? The pig would need to get some exercise." At which point my husband decided that heretofore all pig discussions were permanently closed. Or as he put it to me, "On top of everything else, I would rather not be known in town as "the Pig Lady's husband."