Monk

my grandparents always had a pig, and every time they'd kill one for blood sausage, salo, holodets and other types of meat dishes, they'd buy a piglet and keep it at home until it would grow big enough to be kept in the barn. Grandma would get really attached to the piglet, since it was an awesome pet, and on the day of killing the pig she'd cry. A lot. It was kind of traumatic for us kids, together with a large upside-down hanging corpse of a pig tied to two trees in the front hard, bleeding out into a buckets and into grass all day.