Tough economic times call for drastic action. I recently read
the city of Longmont is considering allowing its residents to keep
chickens in their backyards.
That made me think life could get interesting here in Littleton.
I can’t wait to see what will happen if residents ask our city
council for permission to keep chickens in their yards. If chickens
are allowed, what will be next? Whenever you start mixing up
government officials and people’s pets/livestock, all
cock-a-doodle-doo breaks out.
I’ll never forget the fiasco involving Arnold, the so-called
pot-bellied pig, in 1992.
Back in the 1990s, pot-bellied pigs were fashionable as pets.
Pot-bellied pigs were a miniature variety of swine the size of cats
that could be kept in the house and had all the good attributes of
pigs.
Pigs have good attributes? The truth is, pigs are as smart as
dogs. They bond with humans. They can learn tricks. They learn
their names, can be trained to walk on a leash, and they love tummy
scratches. The only problem is … well, they are pigs.
Pigs are born to eat. Their whole purpose in life is to devour
anything they see and quickly “pork out.” Given too much food in
the first two years of his life, a pot-belly pig will balloon up
into a size inappropriate for a house-pet.
He’ll look more like a football lineman than a pigskin. And
whatever goes in one end of a pig comes out the other, which leads
to another problem.
If you think coyotes skulking around the neighborhood is bad,
try having a pig living five feet away from your bedroom window.
“Pig sty” is a derogatory term for a reason.
That’s what the neighbors who lived next-door to Arnold, and all
his by-products, complained about. Arnold’s family lived a few
blocks from Sterne Park, in a house with a small yard. The trouble
was Arnold’s owner couldn’t resist feeding him all the treats he
begged for, and by the time the city was called in, Arnold weighed
170 pounds and had outgrown his home. Arnold was kept in a backyard
pen a few feet from the neighbors’ bedroom window.
In 1992, I was working as a reporter for this newspaper and had
the fun of covering the Arnold story. The neighbors invited me over
to look out their bedroom window and take a sniff. Arnold looked
and smelled like a regular pig to me.
But he was a beloved pet to his owner, who said Littleton’s
animal control officials had told them city ordinances did not
prohibit miniature pigs because they were considered exotic
animals. When the neighbors complained, the staff took another look
and decided the city code did forbid the keeping of any pig —
miniature or not — in a residential area.
Then Arnold’s owners protested to their city council member and
were told the staff would review the city code and the council
would consider the matter in the future.
City councils generally hate to have public hearings on animals
because these are no-win situations. For every citizen who hates
cats that poop in his child’s sandbox, there is another who thinks
Fluffy should be allowed to roam free. A wise council doesn’t buy a
pig in a poke.
The council made the decision not to review the law prohibiting
pigs. They didn’t want all the emotion of a public hearing on
pot-belly pigs. A few years later, when I became a council member
who had to sit through public hearings, I could understand their
reasoning.
But back then I was an enterprising reporter. It was my job to
attend all the city council’s public meetings. I hadn’t ever heard
the council discuss the pot-belly pig issue. When I asked when they
made the decision not to review the pig law, it turned out they had
decided during an informal poll taken by the mayor at the end of an
executive session. Executive sessions are not open to the public or
newspaper reporters.
My editor had worked for the Miami Herald and was knowledgeable
about governmental affairs. She insisted the council had broken the
Sunshine Law and wrote an editorial about it. By agreeing not to
hold a public hearing to listen to the people who wanted an
opportunity to change the council members’ minds, the council had
effectively set policy, she argued. If the law isn’t followed at
all times — even for the smallest of issues — the public would lose
trust in their government.
Because this is a small town, before the paper came out, I
called up one of the council members who had worked with the media
and expressed our paper’s concerns. At the next council meeting the
pig problem was brought up and the council publicly voted against
considering a change to the zoning law forbidding pigs in
residential zones.
Goodbye Arnold.
Arnold was packed up and shipped out, even though his owner
lamented that he was too domestic to survive on a farm and would
die of a broken heart.
I never heard if Arnold was turned into bacon, but I do know
that later on, quietly, the husband of Arnold’s owner confided to
our mayor that he’d never liked that pig anyway.
Rebecca Kast is a former Littleton city council member who
writes monthly on local politics and history. She can be reached
for comment at rebeccakast@comcast.net.