Winston Churchill remarked "I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals." I have reared all three at one time or another and can confirm that there is some truth in this statement. I'm also happy to report that I no longer keep pigs. Providing they have enough space, pigs display expected levels of cleanliness and possess great intelligence as far as obtaining food is concerned, but they can't count very well. If crowded together in large numbers they keep forgetting where they come in the pecking order resulting in endless battles. I only kept one pig so I can't confirm this. Babe, a Vietnamese pot bellied pig, arrived one Christmas morning at the height of the "sheep pig" craze. Once installed in a small scrub forest, he quickly settled in and enjoyed eating apples from the children's hands and grew fat on crushed barley and grubbing about in the undergrowth. When his belly eventually grew longer than his legs the pig preferred to stay in the sty, venturing out only to see if any food was on offer. Never destined for the butcher he led a long and happy life before dying during the foot and mouth scare. While not expensive to keep the pig proved very costly to dispose off. At the pet crematorium I was comforted on my loss, forked out a hefty sum and instructed to return the next day to collect the ashes. I opted for a black cardboard box instead of choosing from the range of expensive cremation urns, excusing my apparent lack of compassion with elaborate burial plans that included mixing the ashes with daffodil bulbs, adding how this would allow us to celebrate the pig's memory each spring. Overhearing this, the kids ensured that I kept my word so in addition to a happy life the pig also received a full state funeral. Any future pigs however will enrich the freezer, not the flowers, for as the Italian's say 'Pigs and poets are only fully appreciated when dead'