My Mother Loved Her Pig More Than Me

On the day my dad walked out on us for another woman, my mom bought a pig.

The pig was named Joy. I was also named Joy.

Whenever she was angry, she would grab a wooden switch, go to the pen, and whip the pig.

"Joy, why aren't you dead yet?"

I would squat nearby, listening to the thud of the wood hitting flesh, unable to tell which Joy she was screaming at.

When she was tired of beating it, she would scoop out the exact same amount of food for the pig and me.

"Good girl, Joy. As long as you eat more and get fat, Mommy will be happy."