I am a little bit “obsessive compulsive” (OBC) and this means when I start doing some odd thing or other I may have a compulsion to keep doing it over and over. For instance, about 20 years or so back Pat and I started going by the City Park every morning to pick up beer bottles and put trash in the garbage can. This puzzles some citizens and twice I have been flagged down and asked how much I get off the aluminum cans. I have no idea since I just trash can them. But now the city picks them up. So I don’t. Of course, whenever I pass the park on my golf cart I still feel a sort of need to check it out.

Also, most days finds me tooling around Allen in my golf cart out on West Broadway where there are a number of goats housed. I have become a pretty good pal with the dogs that care for these goats. The Australian Sheep Dog hired to watch these goats is an expert goat-minder and soon enough I got to know her. I toted some of those little milk bones from the Dollar Store on my golf cart and before I could stop myself I was sharing them with my new goat manager friend. Now, thanks to my OCB I am a good friend to this dog. I was caught in the very act of sharing one of these treats by the goat’s owner who quizzed me about why I was feeding his dog. He decided it was OK and I asked him how he had trained the dog so well. “I didn’t he replied,” I just put her in there and she knew what to do. “It’s bred into her.” Now the old “pro” dog has been joined by a young blonde male who I suppose is her trainee. But I think he helps keep her from being too lonely. But she hasn’t said.

But speaking of my concern for animals, I think of my Uncle Matt’s hog. The one he got after he moved to California. My uncle lived here in Allen atop the hill just north of town before he packed it in and moved to Hanford, California. I loved their place here in Allen and often visited them, riding the Dinky over from Stonewall. Corky and Tiny (my cousins) were loyal Allen Mustangs back in 1947. Mathis’s wife was my mother’s twin sister. But alas, in 1948 the family moved to California where Matt bought a dairy farm. Somehow, Uncle Matt got into the pig business too. This enterprise graduated into providing special little roasting pigs for high class restaurants who would feature in their “ambiance” a pair of waiters carrying in a succulent little pig (with violins whining) atop a nice silver platter with an apple in the little pig’s mouth. The little morsel would be paraded into the dining area with music and pomp. A pretty dish indeed.

Now let’s talk about Arnold. This humongous boar hog not only packed on the pounds, he produced a passel of litters. Combined with select girl pigs his little piglets were ideal for making the dining room parade. And they did. Uncle Matt had an infinite market for his profitable little pigs. Arnold, the biggest boar I ever saw, was good at his job, eating and breeding. But destiny reared its head up in Hollywood.

A guy named Duke was trying to make a big movie called “The Thornbirds.” Many of you readers saw this big miniseries several years ago. An important part of this Australian movie shows one of its stars, “Howie” being charged by and viscously murdered by a humongous hog. Duke needed a big viscous hog with tusks who could act. Yes, it turns out to be our Arnold. One of Uncle Matts acquaintances worked on the movie set and soon Duke found himself down on Uncle Matt’s farm bargaining for Arnold. He may have weighed over 1,000 pounds (Arnold not Uncle Matt) and had very ugly tusks but he was really just a big cuddly hog who was more of a lover than a killer. And may I say again, Arnold was the biggest boar I have ever seen and was good at what he did.

Arnold loved his work. Uncle Matt liked Arnold and his piglets too. Uncle Mathis gave special tender care to these piglets, bathing them only with Dove soap and attending carefully to their proper feed and care. They were carefully inspected for their health. But Arnold went on to Hollywood and was an instant star — a sensation and Arnold knew it. But after that series of scenes were shot, so was Arnold. Duke’s wife wouldn’t let him bring Arnold home, so he gave Arnold back to my uncle.

Arnold returned to Hanford a hero and it brought more fame and money to Uncle Matt. Arnold soon went back to his happy days of just laying around breeding, eating and entertaining the local townspeople who would drive out to see this famous movie star. Matt never did get around to seeing the big movie and he never told Arnold. And Arnold never asked. Arnold finally passed away and it would have hurt his feelings if he had known that Uncle Matt had him processed into sausage. Fame is fleeting. So is life.

Be sure and go to your church this Sunday.

Wayne Bullard, DPh cwaynebullard@gmail.com