Hello, Hamlet

Meet my new pet. He was almost a boy, but since he was still a fetus when the literal plug was pulled, he didn't even have balls yet, just a little empty sack. I figured that probably would make him ornery and moody, so I named him Hamlet. That, and the obvious "tiny porcine" thing.



He doesn't eat anything, since he's well... pickled in formaldehyde, and he doesn't move around a lot, since his feet are tied and his belly is sliced from anus to thalamus, which I did myself with a #4 scalpel. When I'm not prodding around on his insides or removing his organs with my bare gloved hands, he lives in a big ziploc bag.



He could have been a super cute little piggy, had he had the chance to live, but he might've just ended up bacon. This way, I like to imagine that I saved him from Eggs Benedict or the Oscar Meyer factory, and he gets the added bonus of teaching me all about the cardiovascular and digestive systems. So far I've enjoyed having him around. He's cute and a great conversation-starter. The only downside is my sudden aversion to pork products, but I expect that will wane with time.