Unlikely Friendships : 47 Remarkable Stories From the Animal Kingdom (20 page)

Chicks dig sharky. The tiny cotton puffs perch on his back, peck at his snout, and use him as a raft in the pool. They're also strangely fond of a Siamese-snowshoe cat called Max, who noses them into line. And Max and Sharky, well, since the cat put the dog in his place with a paw-slap or two, they've gotten along better than fine. To Helen Jürlau, an Estonian who moved to Texas, it's a crazy circus of personalities—just the way she likes it.

She grew up on a farm raising pigs and cows, gathering eggs still warm from the hen. So when she moved to the States with her American husband, Helen was soon bringing animals back to the house, starting with a potbellied pig. “It made me feel at
home,” she says. And as the zoo grew, the relationships among the animals took wonderful turns.

Sharky dove into fatherhood before he was a year old and was like an excited big brother to his pups. “He couldn't wait to see them, even more than the female,” says Helen. “If I'd ask, ‘Where are your babies?' his eyes would sparkle and he'd run off to look for them. He's just in heaven when he's surrounded by all his babies.” Those babies came to include Siamese cat Max and the batches of chicks that Helen gets each spring. “When he sees those chicks, his eyes grow huge and he wants to play,” she says. He doesn't discriminate between furred and feathered. “I think he just wants to protect anything that's small and helpless. Guinea pigs, rabbits, chicks, the pig, he just won't leave them alone. Everyone gets kisses.”

Now, Helen photographs and videotapes the animals to share their bizarre friendships with the world. Some favorite scenes caught on film could be subtitled this way:
Chicks line up atop dog. Chick slides down seated dog's back. Dog, cat, and chicks cuddle together. Chicks ride cat. Cat nuzzles chicks. Dog and cat nap. Dog and chicks play in the pool. Cat slaps dog playfully while riding by on automatic vacuum cleaner
. No doubt Helen's is the only house on the block—in the world?—boasting such antics among its pets.

The animals don't seem to mind being stalked by paparazzi; they just do their thing regardless of the audience. But the clearest bond is the one ever growing between dog and cat. “They make me laugh so much,” says Helen. “Sometimes Sharky and Max sit in exactly the same position, one paw stretched out straight and the other crunched inward, like they're mocking each other.” And other times, she says, they sprawl out back to back by the pool, two friends just looking at the sky.

{G
ERMANY,
2009}

Here's a dog that's bred tough enough to hunt boar, bobcats, and bears. But give it a wrinkled-sausage of a piglet, and it turns into the tender motherly type.

One cold night in 2009, Roland Adam of Hoerstel, Germany, discovered a pair of recently born pigs on his twenty-acre property. One had already died of exposure and the other was a squirming handful of pinkish skin, chilled to the core, barely alive. A breeding pair of Vietnamese potbellied pigs—a squatter, denser variety of your standard barnyard porker—had taken up residence on Roland's land years before; this was not the first time he had come across such gifts. But in this case he had to intervene, sure that the surviving baby would die from cold or hunger, or would
be snatched up by foxes before morning. He tucked it under his sweater and brought it to the house he shared with Katjinga the Rhode-sian ridgeback.

The piglet became little Paulinchen, and Roland decided to hand her off to his dog, who had recently weaned her own litter of pups. It was a good move. Katjinga gave the piglet the soft-puppy treatment, keeping her clean and warm. The pig clearly felt right at home, even trying to nurse—though the dog was no longer producing milk. (Roland and his family took care of feedings.)

A few days later, with pig and hound getting along like mother and son, Roland discovered Paulinchen's birth mother with the rest of her litter, all healthy. He thanked Katjinga for her service and returned the lost baby to the pig family, which eagerly accepted her.

Though the piglet bonded with Katjinga only briefly, it was at a crucial time for the newborn. Back in the porcine life, Paulinchen was a little different from her siblings—a bit tamer and more at ease with other animals. “She knows us and knows Katjinga,” Roland says. “When we see the pigs running around and we call to them, Paulinchen will put her head up and look.” Sometimes she and Katjinga have a quick nuzzle when the pigs come around sniffing out a meal.

Roland attributes Katjinga's sweet nature to good training (ridgebacks need a lot of socialization) and to the special atmosphere in which they all live. “It is a peaceful area, mostly woodlands,” he says. “When there are hunters around, our farm is like a safe haven where animals come together.”