Of Animals: The Loving Vs. The Eating

My mom's cousin Joey was a bit of a rural guy. He graduated from high school and immediately joined the police force, meaning he retired with a full pension by age 38.

He bought his family a big piece of land out in I think Iowa and started raising horses. He had always been good with animals.
As a matter of fact, his children grew up with a pet pig. Not a pot-bellied, George Clooney-loving piglet, mind you, but a full-sized 300 lb. hog. Of course it wasn't that big when they got it. Like New York City's sewer gators, they found this piglet and thought it was cute, then raised it to maturity, albeit they did not flush the pig down the toilet once it grew too unwieldy to keep indoors.

In an uncharacteristic ought of good humor, Joey named the piglet "Porkchop."
The problem was that once Joey's eldest daughter graduated from high school, the family held a big barbecue and Porkchop lived up to his name.