When Henry was a small boy, the whole house went through an unpleasant bout of pink-eye. First he had it, then of course Daddy-Mark and I got it. I remember it was right before Christmas because we were too scary-looking to go to any holiday parties. Then a few weeks later, Henry was complaining of a muscle ache one night, and declared he had “pink neck.” It’s one of those cute kid sayings that enters the family vernacular.
I thought of this recently while thinking about swine flu. (I couldn’t actually recreate that train of thought again, so don’t ask.) Everyone except Egypt now knows that pigs got a raw deal in this pandemic by being blamed for the new strain of virus. (FYI: Officials in Egypt ordered destruction of all 300,000 of the country's pigs. In related news, Afghanistan's one known pig was quarantined. I am not kidding.) Pigs are being dragged through the mud, so to speak. We already have chicken pox and mad cow disease. What animals will be blamed for our illnesses next? Camel cancer? Hippo hepatitis? It’s unfair, I tell you.
Meanwhile, remember to disinfect your sty and cover your snout with your hoof when you cough.
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