Carol’s Column

Who says our animals don't have spiritual souls?

Most religions believe that the quintessential difference between humans and animals is spiritual soul.

Humans are in possession of such a soul while other creatures are without, the tacit conclusion being that humans are superior.

After the horrifying events revealed each day at the Truth and Reconciliation Commission hearings, you might be forgiven for believing this belief is erroneous.

Personally, I've always known that in the true scheme of things, it is possible for an animal to display superior spiritual qualities.

This isn't a guess. It's a hypothesis proven to me by living intimately with Henry the Hog for 18 years.

Henry the Hog - known in French as Orri le Og - is legendary. Even today, the head of the French School speaks of Orri with awe.

The Hog was born a scottie of great pedigree, officially Winchester Angus McGherkin of Aithe out of Rebecca Winchester McGherkin of Aithe.

Despite formidable pedigree, in looks Henry resembled a warthog with a bald backside, hence his name.

He manifested his soul in his first year, when he trotted out of our gate and into the French School around the corner at the Zoo Lake.

There Henry discovered the bags of 15 young students lying on the stoep. Inside these satchels were lovingly prepared school lunches. With delicacy Henry chose three to savour.

During the following 18 years, Henry visited the school daily for a snack.

Here is the remarkable part; he never ate more than three lunches at a time, and he only took from over-plump children, who, the principal confided, would heartily benefit from the loss of lunch.

Can a creature without a soul become one of Johannesburg's finest art critics?

On the day Artists in the Sun held their monthly open-air exhibition at the Zoo Lake, in fine critical form, Henry would stroll around assessing each artwork.

Finally, choosing the one he considered most atrocious, he'd lift his stubby leg and piddle upon it.

Everyone agreed that over 18 years Henry unerringly chose the worst work of art on which to leave his mark.

Art collectors would watch Henry's moves and, when he showed admiration for a work with a tail waggle, they'd purchase immediately. The Hog once saved the life of a toddler who fell into Zoo Lake by pulling the child to safety.

For this, he was awarded the Gold Cross of St Francis, the highest international animal award. When he appeared on TV, he was appropriately modest and could barely speak.

Henry enjoyed good cuisine and would regularly visit the very smart and even more expensive Zoo Lake restaurant. Unnoticed, he'd survey each table, choose the finest dish, and then, with unbelievable speed, jump up and remove the food from the unsuspecting diner's plate.

Only once was he caught, and, as punishment, sent to the SPCA in Booysens where he suffered the indignity of eating dog pellets until I retrieved him.

Politically aware and a dog born during the apartheid era, he would never, ever, allow the police, on their early dawn dompas raids, on to the property. So ferocious was he that he attacked each man like a ratel, going for the Privates.

He formed a passionate relationship with one dog, Estelle, a labrador. When, sadly, she died at the age of 14, Henry mourned and wouldn't look at any other bitch. Such morality is better than most people achieve in a lifetime.

When he died, Henry the Hog left behind an unforgettable legacy. Memories of so many funny incidents that when his name is mentioned, everyone immediately smiles.

If this isn't proof of The Hogg's soul, I don't know what is.

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