Meet my neighbor---Wilber, the Potbellied Pig.
Wilber belongs to Laureen.
Laureen and her family are not living in their house right now.
They had a leaky roof.
The fixing of the leaky roof and the interior damage done by the leak is taking longer than they thought it would.
They moved out until the work is done.
Because (yes, I started a sentence with a preposition) they live several miles away, I insisted that I care for their animals in the mornings.
I am up anyway. I am outside with my animals anyway.
Makes no sense for them to come out first thing in the morning, when I'm living just a half acre away.
I let their dogs out and then I let Wilber out and feed him breakfast.
Wilber and I have not always been friends.
He's rather a grumpy old man.
I think he's at least 12 or 13 years old.
He's also a momma's boy.
However, since he sees me on a daily basis and I serve breakfast, he's warmed up to me.
He doesn't try to scare me by charging at me anymore.
We have an agreement of sorts.
I feed him and he now lets me pat him on the back as I'm leaving.
It's a big deal really.
For years, I longed to touch him.
For years, he made it clear that he was not in favor of it.
I have never had an animal not like me.
I guess the old adage of "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach" hold true for Wilber.
Breakfast made all the difference.
I still keep my wits about me when I'm with him.
He could change his mind about our agreement at any moment.
He does have teeth and considerable weight to throw at me, should he choose to do so.
For now, we are cordial to one another.
That's good enough for me. :)