Pfer Pig

By Michele Dowling. 

More photos of Pfer, and her story can be purchased at PferPig

Pfer pig lived on a farm with many other animals.  She loved them and always considered them “family”, although they always made fun of her because she was a P I G and pigs were known for being lazy, dirty and dumb.

Most of her days were spent eating, rolling around in her favourite mud hole and then sleeping in the sun and she was happy but lately when she slept her dreams were not peaceful, they were upsetting. She would often see large orange flames licking at the walls of the barn, her snout and eyes would burn from the heat, she found it hard to breathe and see because of all the smoke and she would wake herself up squealing “danger, fire” as loud as she could, only to see all the other animals laughing at her.

She didn’t like it when they laughed at her, or when the old rooster grumbled at her, telling her to stop being so silly and go back to sleep.  One night though, a fire really did break out in the barn and if it weren’t for Pfer squealing loudly the horses never would have woken and kicked down the barn doors, waking all the other animals up which allowed them to escape the inferno.

From that day on Pfer was thought of as a hero and all the animals treated her differently.  They no longer laughed or grumbled at her.  Nor did they think her and her dreams were silly, instead they respected her and neither she nor the other animals ever doubted her dreams again.

© Story & Image Michele Dowling & Cheryl O’Connor February 2017 – all rights reserved.  This story and associated image/s may not be reproduced in any way without the express written consent of Michele or Cheryl who can be contacted via Cheoco Enterprises, Old Petrie Town, Whiteside, Queensland, Australia.  Ph: 0423 663 520.  Email:  Website:



Paying homage to all the wonderful writers in the world who share their experiences, thoughts and feelings via the written word, who inspire others and who assist us all so beautifully to get more in touch with our imagination and bring forth who we truly are, unlimited creative beings.

During my many processes of healing and wanting to understand what was going on for me I not only came across some wonderful writers, I started writing myself. I’d always loved English as a subject at school and writing but I’d been too busy surviving and had lost touch with the writer in me. Totally forgetting how much I loved to write and that I even could write – surprising myself with some of the things that started flowing out of me onto the paper and later through my fingertips onto the keyboard and appearing in front of me on a screen.

Writing became my best friend and my best form of not only communicating with others but more importantly beginning to understand not only my own processes but myself. My book The Promise came to be purely from writing verses as I went through each process and spans 7 years of my life. When compiling over a hundred verses one day I thought WOW, this is a wonderful story and so I then linked all the verses together to create the bigger picture. Last year I re-wrote the entire book so that it was not just all verse.

I spent one whole day this week totally focussed on writing an article – it took me at least 12 hours perhaps longer – I am not certain of time I just know that once I started I was not able to stop until it was finished. I “lost” a whole day totally absorbed in something I love to do, so absorbed in fact I didn’t even stop to eat and collapsed exhausted, in a good way, into bed that night after a couple of slices of toast smothered in homemade plum jam and a cup of tea.

The writing we all get to see as a finished product is indeed a work of art. For me I start with a blank canvas and a phrase or theme in my head and just like an artist a rush of words flow from my head, like brush strokes on that blank canvas. I stand back and have a read. Then I add a stroke here and a stroke there, I re-arrange, I cut out, I move around and after each re-arrange, I again stand back and have a read. It can sometimes get to the stage I am just so tired of re-reading, but it needs to be done.

There comes a point where you just know, like an artist, that is it, it is done for if you were to continue it would just land up a rambling mess.

The article I produced the other day will be published in due course and I will post the link when that occurs. Like anything that we create it takes time and never ever do any of us see the “work”, love and passion, sometimes blood, sweat and tears that are involved in creating something.

We are the same – we don’t just magically get to be where we are now, who we are now or who we want to become with the wave of a wand – we work at it and we still are – for we are all works in progress, constantly adding a bit here, taking a bit away there, re-arranging, standing back and having a look to see if we like what we see or not and yep what we see may be “done” for a time until something or someone else crosses our path and off we go again.

Enjoy your life folks for it is a masterpiece of your own creation and to all the new folk, welcome and thank you for being here, greatly appreciated.
Love and peace to all – Me.

Copyright. C. O’Connor.

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#Cheryl O’Connor.
#Holistic #Counsellor, Author & Writer.

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