SQUINTY AND THE DOG

Squinty was a little pig.  You could tell he was a pig just as soon as you looked at him, because he had the cutest little curly tail, as though it wanted to tie itself into a bow, but was not quite sure whether that was the right thing to do.  And Squinty had a skin that was as pink, under his white, hairy bristles, as a baby’s toes.

Also Squinty had the oddest nose!  It was just like a rubber ball, flattened out, and when Squinty moved his nose up and down, or sideways, as he did when he smelled the nice sour milk the farmer was bringing for the pigs’ dinner, why, when Squinty did that with his nose, it just made you want to laugh right out loud.

But the funniest part of Squinty was his eyes, or, rather, one eye.  And that eye squinted just as well as any eye ever squinted.  Somehow or other, I don’t just know why exactly, or I would tell you, the lid of one of Squinty’s eyes was heavier than the other.  That eye opened only half way, and when Squinty looked up at you from the pen, where he lived with his mother and father and little brothers and sisters, why there was such a comical look on Squinty’s face that you wanted to laugh right out loud again.

In fact, lots of boys and girls, when they came to look at Squinty in his pen, could not help laughing when he peered up at them, with one eye widely open, and the other half shut.

“Oh, what a comical pig!” the boys and girls would cry.  “What is his name?”

“Oh, I guess we’ll call him Squinty,” the farmer said; and so Squinty was named.

Perhaps if his mother had had her way about it she would have given Squinty another name, as she did his brothers and sisters.  In fact she did name all of them except Squinty.

One of the little pigs was named Wuff-Wuff, another Curly Tail, another Squealer, another Wee-Wee, and another Puff-Ball.  There were seven pigs in all, and Squinty was the last one, so you see he came from quite a large family.  When his mother had named six of her little pigs she came to Squinty.

“Let me see,” grunted Mrs. Pig in her own way, for you know animals have a language of their own which no one else can understand.  “Let me see,” said Mrs. Pig, “what shall I call you?”

She was thinking of naming him Floppy, because the lid of one of his eyes sort of flopped down.  But just then a lot of boys and girls came running out to the pig pen.

The boys and girls had come on a visit to the farmer who owned the pigs, and when they looked in, and saw big Mr. and Mrs. Pig, and the little ones, one boy called out: 

“Oh, what a queer little pig, with one eye partly open!  And how funny he looks at you!  What is his name?”

“Well, I guess we’ll call him Squinty,” the farmer had said.  And so, just as I have told you, Squinty got his name.

“Humph!  Squinty!” exclaimed Mrs. Pig, as she heard what the farmer said.  “I don’t know as I like that.”