Colin The Pig

The pig who taught me the meaning of life…

Hannah, 51, was forced to take time out after an injury. In recovery, Colin taught her the value of a slower pace...

‘He’s perfect,’ I said, as the tiny micro-pig snuggled onto my lap. Colin was three months old and I was buying him from a farm. But Colin proved himself to be bigger - and better - than I ever could have imagined.

When I started working with young people who had special educational needs, I loved animal assistance therapy. I had dogs, cats, pygmy goats, geese, chickens and guinea pigs helping me help the children.

When Colin joined the family, he was such a happy, intelligent boy who immediately connected with adults and children alike.

Life was busy and I made no time to look after myself. I was training therapists all over England and felt exhausted and my husband, Tony, was worried about me but I had too much to do to slow down. My body had other ideas.

In September 2019, I developed terrible pain in my neck. A physiotherapist said it was a prolapsed disc. ‘It’ll take three months rest to recover,’ she warned. An MRI confirmed the diagnosis and I was told in no uncertain terms I needed to reorganise my life to allow time to heal. I’d have to stop driving, working at a computer, even sitting up for more than an hour.

Back home, I delegated my appointments to colleagues and prepared for three months time out. During recovery, I spent a lot of time with Colin. I’d witnessed him work wonders with children in my therapy sessions, but now he was helping me. I’d sit on the hammock at the end of the garden and Colin would lie down under my feet so I could rub his belly. He enjoyed being sung to, as long as I stuck to Dolly Parton. He didn’t like Abba. For Dolly, he’d give me his contented pig purr. When I tried Abba, he shot me a look with his incredible golden eyes, then walked off.

With such emphasis on relaxing, eating good food, listening to music and enjoying quality time in the fresh air, Colin made me reassess. I needed to slow down, not just for three months but for good.

Now, when it’s time for our quality time, we go down to the hammock and he makes himself comfortable in his favourite spot, closes his eyes and awaits his lullaby. As far as Colin is concerned, this is a ritual we can not miss. No matter what has happened in my day, Colin is my meditation and my moment of peace. Whatever I bring into our space, he irons out for me. I might arrive with my thoughts elsewhere but after half an hour with Colin, my mind is clear and I feel chilled out and complete.

My neck is much better because I shape my day differently. I shape it around Colin, because he is my wellness. If I don’t come outside when he wants me to, he squeals until I do. It’s like he’s saying: ‘Come on Hannah, stop whatever you are doing. This is our time.’ I feel lucky to have a friend who insists I wind down every day.

Scientific evidence has now proved just how valuable our four-legged friends are for our mental health. Spending time with animals floods our brains with the feel good hormones serotonin and dopamine. Science has proved it and Colin has too.