Your story about Elmer, the potbellied pig whose life was saved at Virginia Tech, was deeply moving. The way you portrayed his stubborn charm, his “semi‑dog things,” and the tenderness of the veterinary team who learned his quirks and coaxed him through recovery made him feel wonderfully alive on the page. It’s clear you saw him as an individual – someone with preferences, moods, and a full inner world.
ICYMI
Elmer’s story shows what pigs are like when they are allowed to be themselves: bright, sensitive beings who form bonds, communicate their needs, and experience fear and comfort much like the dogs we share our homes with. The affection his caregivers felt for him was unmistakable.
But the very beauty of this story also highlights a painful truth. The level of care Elmer received – weeks of attentive treatment, complex surgery, students learning his personality, veterinarians calling his family for advice – is not the reality for most pigs. Institutions like Virginia Tech also conduct animal testing, and many veterinarians trained in such programs go on to work in laboratories, slaughter plants, or industrial agriculture, where pigs’ suffering is minimized or treated as an unavoidable part of production.
Millions of pigs will never meet a veterinarian who scratches them gently, sneaks their medication into marshmallows, or worries over their recovery. Most will never be seen as someone. Elmer’s story is heartwarming precisely because it is so rare.
I hope that in sharing his journey, you might also help readers recognize the larger picture: every pig – whether on a couch, in a barn, or in a laboratory – has the same capacity for personality, affection, fear, and joy. Elmer was lucky. His story invites us to imagine a world where luck is not required for a pig to receive humane care.
Thank you for giving him a voice – one that reminds us how many others go unheard.
Letter from Sara Crane/Toronto
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