Bacon, side pork, pork chops, ham, pork rinds, crayons, suede shoes…now a heart. A few days ago, a living beating heart was taken from a pig and transplanted into a human. A human, who, as of this writing, is alive and recovering with the rhythmic lub-dub of a genetically modified pig heart successfully transporting life blood to all the places life blood needs to go to sustain life.

Do pigs know no bounds in their giving to humanity? If they are aware of the basic rules of reciprocity, which I believe they most certainly are, they are going to be wanting something in return for this embarrassment of riches they have so seemingly selflessly bestowed upon us.

Perhaps as a gesture of appreciation and reverence to all things swine, many, many years ago we humans did offer an olive branch, and stopped using pig bladders as a football. That about evens the score.

Pigs have been biding their time, giving, giving, giving, but there is a big ask on the horizon. They have slowly infiltrated our senses. From a very young age the imperceptible wafting of eau de pig wafts around us as we wrap our little monkey grip around a Crayola and scribble the scribbles of youth.

Youth slowly being indoctrinated into associating the smell of pig with praise, gold stars, and the proud display of their creation upon the refrigerator of all places. Some kids cut straight to the chase and just eat the crayons. So it goes.

Like many of you, I’ve read George Orwell’s book Animal Farm. Just in case you’ve forgotten, it doesn’t turn out well for the humans. As the pigs first commandment expressed, “Four legs good, two legs bad.” No mention of pirates of the peg-leg sort. What’s a commandment without a few loopholes?

The self-appointed leader, Napoleon, seemed like a well-meaning swine. Looking after the best interest of his fellow animals, and he was great with kids, “As soon as they were weaned, Napoleon took them away from their mothers, saying that he would make himself responsible for their education.” What a swell swine.

Leaders are often necessary and sometimes useful, but it seems to me one should be cautious of those that actively seek to be leaders. Those that are not shy to express their oh so humble conviction that they have been “called” to serve. Who called them? Other pigs? Others that were also called to serve?

A pig in a suit is still a pig. I like coloring and eating bacon as much as the next person, but keep an eye on those seemingly selfless swine.

Would I sign up for a pig heart transplant if it was the difference between possible life and certain death? Certainly. I would like to get to know the owner of my future heart. Let Wilbur know what I intend to do with the extra years he would be bestowing upon me. I may even express the possibility of cutting back a bit on my bacon consumption. The possibility…

“All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”