After about two years...

the city started cracking down on my case, hitting me with all sorts of pre-existing code violations, even though I had active permits and was making significant progress. I was handling all the work myself while juggling my day job as an electrical engineer. It was exhausting. While I accomplished a lot, I realized I had done things in the wrong order. I should have completely gutted the house, rebuilt the roof and framing first, but I mistakenly believed I could shore up sagging areas. Unfortunately, I was unable to do so, which meant I would have to start over, ripping out all the water and electrical systems, leaving it as little more than a brick shell for a while, especially with winter approaching. Before winter set in, a contractor swindled me by botching the basement pouring, leaving me in dire straits. With a few break-ins occurring, including one while Wiggum and I were in the house, things were spiraling out of control. I experienced a mental breakdown and a suicide attempt. At that juncture, I realized that given the housing situation's volatility, I needed to find a long-term solution for Wiggum. He weighed in at about 235 pounds, and he was strong enough that restraining him during walks or street fairs posed a risk. If he trampled or bit someone, it could have dire consequences. Pigs lack approved rabies vaccinations; Wiggum's vet administered Imrab 3, and I believe we obtained a titer test confirming its effectiveness. However, if someone claimed Wiggum had bitten their child or broken their skin by stepping on their toe and reported it to animal control, they would likely euthanize him. They would chop off his head.

My friend Eric helped me get eventually in touch with Chubby Goat Acres in Schoolcraft, MI, and agreed to take him on as a permanent resident. This was not an easy decision to make for them or me.

Wiggum is a permanent resident at Chubby Goat Acres and I see him about once a month give or take. He enjoys swimming in the pond and getting read to. I'm currently making a video series where every time I visit he gets read one chapter of Charlotte Web (Youtube Link). It doesn't matter what season it is, how cold and harsh it may be, he gets read to. Although it's great to see Wiggum as much as possible I needed to find some other thing to do than give him treats. He's getting older, about 8 years old as of writing this article on 2/28/2024.

Wiggum has had a while life and it always makes me amazed to think most pigs don't live past three. Wiggum has been on three world naked bike rides, car rides to several states, been the center of a federal lawsuit, made it into the newspapers several times (here too) (many more), made a cameo in the documentary "Hail Satan?" (a bit rude we weren't in the credits) and was mentioned on Wikipedia. How many pigs have never even had a root beer let alone all of that?

Often when a pig gets "too big" it gets ditched on a scanturary or worse and never sees its human again. I'm sure Chubby Goat Acres staff would agree this has not happened. Sometimes I may miss a month but he's not forgotten. He's just got a different farm life than he grew up to. He probably enjoys the mud and pen he's got more than sitting for hours in the basement while I'm off at work. He's loved. He's everything to me. You might think I just dumped Wiggum and made it their problem but I assure you he's a very financially sponsored resident. Although CGA is a rescue I somewhat jokingly say, "Some people have horses, I have a pig-son". I max out my employer's 501c3 gift match in most recent years. It would be nice if readers of this would decide to donate as well. There are a lot of amazing souls on their sanctuary who could use a sponsor and a visitor on occasion.

At one point it was discussed reuniting in Chicago and moving him back however CGA and I determined he's enjoying sort of the retired life and probably in his best interests.

There ya go. This is our story. If anyone mentions him just say "I heard he's doing great". Last note, don't get a pig!

I believed I could handle it—better than anyone else, I thought.

Sometime in March 2016, a special piglet was born at Old Crowe Farm in Red Oak, Virginia. They named him "Old Boy". In my extensive research on pig breeds, I discovered American Guinea Hogs. These hogs, known as a heritage breed, are lard hogs (as opposed to meat) and are generally not bred much anymore. Though there was no guarantee of his final size, Old Crowe mentioned that he appeared a bit of a runt at birth. My findings indicated that a male American Guinea Hog typically stays under 200 pounds, which seemed manageable. Despite this uncertainty, I decided to adopt one. After several conversations, I found Old Crowe Farm and made the decision to adopt one. Thus, "Old Boy" struck the pig lottery of life.

However, the challenge arose of how to transport a piglet from Red Oak, VA to Chicago, IL. My brother was not keen on the idea of relaying him from Detroit to Chicago on the way to my cousin's wedding in Minneapolis, MN, and he refused. Eventually, I found someone on Craigslist heading to a metal music festival in Detroit and negotiated for them to deliver the piglet to me. Our first meeting took place on 4th street in Detroit—the same street where the 4th street fair is held, complete with peacocks and peahens—a moment captured on video, marking the beginning of our journey together and his first belly rub.

Next stop: my cousin's wedding in Minneapolis, MN.

As unconventional as it may have been, "Old Boy" and I made an appearance, forever immortalized in their wedding photos. We just made the vows. Forever immortalized in my cousin's wedding photos, they'll have to explain how their cousin Kenny brought a darn pig to their wedding. How "thoughtful," right? From there, we went home to Chicago for the first time.

Our West Town apartment had no pet restrictions making room for "Old Boy". The name "Chief Wiggum" was decided upon. The runner-up was Set (the Egyptian deity).

The landlord, upon my move-in, mentioned she had encountered issues with a previous tenant who owned a dog. The tenant claimed the dog's urination was causing leakage into the unit below. Later on, we discovered the absurdity of this claim, which resulted in numerous problems stemming from a logical toilet flange leak. Kevin Porter (known for BMX), pointed out that the issue occurred when the toilet flushed, causing drainage down the wall.

However, tensions arose with a downstairs neighbor; a weenis named Nick Ferreria took over the lease when Kevin moved out, who seemed to be in cahoots with the landlord. Nick would complain about noise which was made up nonsense. If you're reading this Nick, you can straight up fuck off. It took a lot of restraint not to knock that guy out. The landlord's disapproval of "Old Boy" became apparent.

This was a really fun year or so taking Wiggum out and about in Chicago while he could still be carried. There were street fairs all the time; Wiggum invaded a petting zoo and was a favorite of the Chicago Police. World Naked Bike rides. Multiple Riot Fests. And, of course, all the places we got kicked out of. We were kicked out of the Exit after being invited to come because Wiggum peed and pooped near the front door like three times (who hasn't there). We got kicked out of the Eazy Inn for him again being asked to come and pee on the floor. We also got kicked out of Phylis's music bar, and the one that really got me ticked off was Parson's Chicken and Fish in Logan Square. We were kicked out because it worked up the dogs. Chicago has a patio license allowing dogs on the premises. Instead of simply kicking out poorly behaved dogs, it was Wiggum who got the boot. Further, Wiggum is a legal emotional support animal, and the paperwork was from my medical professional whom I had seen for years; no online loophole, and the law gives establishments elective rights to discriminate or not, and Parsons Chicken and Fish maintained a well-behaved emotional support pig ruined the poorly behaved dog culture experience he caused, and Wiggum wasn't allowed in. That's when I started noting on all of Wiggum's Instagram posts "boycott Parsons Chicken and Fish". I took a lot of heat for that but would do the same thing over again, and to this day, never went back and never will. I encourage you to not go there as well. I originally thought about suing the city of Chicago as if you look into Cook County health code if I recall it explicitly said something adverse to the whole dog patio license would violate something, but I need to recall and look up what that exactly was. Seriously, fuck dog culture. Not dogs, but the culture. Except small yappy dogs. They are just as bad as cats. I'm slightly allergic to both cats and dogs, and why would I get an emotional support dog or service animal if I'm slightly allergic to them? Wiggum, I have no apparent allergy problems with.

“I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.” - Winston Churchill

Over time, the same leak the previous tenant was kicked out over, citing a dog, sprouted up again. Once again, the moronic landlord wanted to blame it on the animal instead of acknowledging a problem with the toilet flange. Wiggum would consistently pee on his pet loo, but the landlord was hell-bent on using that and Nick's "noise complaints" to build a case to get us out of the apartment, along with her oaf boyfriend-brother Zbig (a Ukrainian name, I believe). Wiggum had paperwork to be a legal emotional support animal (ESA). He could not be considered a full-service animal due to the 2002 Americans with Disabilities Act revision, which eliminated everything but dogs and miniature horses from being a full-service animal. This was partly the reason I later challenged the dumb law passed by Congress.

As time went on, the landlord finally snapped and attempted a formal eviction, citing noise and claiming the pig caused the leak. She also made absurd claims, such as accusing me of flushing wet wipes down the toilet, based on the assumption that one time there wasn't any toilet paper in one of the bathrooms, and even alleging odor issues because of Wiggum. Because a clean pig kept in an apartment stinks, right? Nick also tried to appease her, claiming that Wiggum's hooves were noisy over his bedroom, which is nonsense as Wiggum spent the vast majority of his time in the kitchen or in bed with me. I'm generally on the quiet side. I fought back and got a city inspector to come in and document numerous issues with the apartment. Per Chicago landlord-tenant ordinance, I deducted repair costs from rent after giving proper notices. Things were becoming increasingly problematic, as instead of knocking, Zbig, the landlord's likely inbred brother-boyfriend, would use the main electrical breaker as a doorbell to try and provoke me. I believe that's when I reported them for a faulty electrical system, missing a first-floor disconnect, and exposed wiring. I endured a lot of nonsense, trying not to rock the boat while having a pig.

In Chicago/Cook County...

the landlord could have simply chosen not to renew my lease, and I wouldn't have had much to stand on, except if I were to refuse to move out and force an early eviction filing. By the time the case got to court, it was a huge waste of time, and the judge gave me a look as if to say, "This person is crazy." The case was ultimately dismissed as I had already vacated the premises before anything could be ruled on or enforced. Elizabeth tried withholding my security deposit (around $1550, if I recall correctly). What I ended up doing was waiting until the very last couple of months before the statute of limitations ran out (approximately five years, I think), and then I sued her. I ended up representing myself pro se and won double per ordinance when a landlord doesn't return a security deposit. She was properly served via her boyfriend-brother Zbig, but she simply skipped court and received a default judgment. I placed a lien on both of her properties, which remains in place as of writing this article.

Later on, someone told me while on a worlds naked bike ride with Wiggum that the downstairs landlord's bitchboy Nick Ferreira was kicked out too for whatever reason. Either she wasn't charging enough rent or just backstabbed him wanting to clear the place out of anyone that was around. That or the code violations could have had something to do with habitability; one was for the entire three-story deck was built without permits, written up, and you need fire exists. Fuck that horse cum dumpster landlord.

Before the shit hit the fan I bought a condemned house in West Humboldt Park as is, cash so I'd have somewhere for my boy to live, and was done with landlords having issues at now three in a row. It was rough at first as there were no water pipes/hot water, electrical, furnace, large holes in the brickwork one could climb through, and pretty sure a former crackhouse/crack selling going on in the backyard when I moved in. Wiggum had the whole basement to himself. Yes, I lived in a condemned building with a pig for quite some time while I made a respectable try to rehab the place. It was overall a mess in the end.