I’m in love with my son’s Skinny Pig Ernie. Ernie may be ugly to some of you. Okay, to any of you who have seen a photo of him or met him in person. I know this because you’ve said things like, “Dear god he’s ugly.” Or “Wow. What the hell IS that?!” And, “You have a walking penis for a pet.”
And this. Which made me laugh uproariously.
“Why the heck would you get an animal who doesn’t have fur?” somebody else asked. “He’s disgusting.”
He may be “hair challenged” but he’s certainly not disgusting. He’s friendly and he loves to snuggle. And even without much hair, he’s baby soft. He’s like holding a warm peach with toenails.
Ernie is the perfect fit for our family. We get “different.”
And why did we name him Ernie? His namesake is my Grandpa Ernie. Ninety-four years old, he’s a force of nature. He lives on his own and until a recent foot infection, he did his own shopping, cooked his own meals and took care of his house. He’s witty and sharp and completely with it. Ninety-four.
A few years ago he decided he’d try growing a gotee, just to switch things up a bit. I think it suits him.
Ernie and Ernie… both sweet and loveable guys. Both baldish, with soft pinky skin with freckles and a dapper white muzzle.
Ernies are the best. We love both of ours.