Pig

I have a child! His name is pig. He is a dear little thing. No more than the size of a whelp, orange in colour, fashioned from latex and made in China. I love him dreadfully.
Mama presented him to me the other morning. His tiny rubber head was sticking out of a brown paper bag. The moment I spied his sweet little face a feeling swept through me, a rush of familiarity. It was all rather strange.
I've had plenty of pets in the past but there is something different about pig. It's as if our fates are somehow tied and we are destined to be together.
I take him everywhere with me. In fact on the first day of his arrival so determined was I that we should not be parted I was unwilling to even venture as far as the garden. If I am forced to go out for a toilet break then I lay him in dear Mama's bed so I know he is safe.
Maybe not that safe though. I put him in there the other night and Mama rolled over in her sleep and crushed him. The squeal woke both of us up. I sat on Mama's chest and cried until she found him. Then she cruelly tossed him over the side of the bed and said 'Fuck's sake'. I immediately sprung to his aid and put him back in bed beside me licking his little ears and snout in a comforting manner.
Then I fell back into a fitful sleep and had that dream again, the one with the white sheets. Except this time darling pig was lying next to me on the bed and he was made of velvet! There was a woman looking down at us and she was saying, 'The pig will have to go, the pig will have to go'.
It was all most disconcerting. I've been licking the bin all day trying to forget about it. I cant seem to get it out of my head. I feel odd.
Dear Mama has been looking at me a bit weirdly too. I believe she fears she has lost me to pig. Oh Mama worry not. It's true that pig is my dear child but I will always be yours! I hope I get a sausage for supper.