On a farm at the end of a bumpy lane, there lived a little pig named Pepper. She had a round pink nose, two small ears that flopped forward, and the cleanest trotters on the whole farm.
Pepper loved many things. She loved warm hay. She loved the smell of apples. She loved the sound of rain on the roof at night.
But there was one thing Pepper did not love. Not even a little bit.
Mud.
Mud was cold. Mud was squelchy. Mud smelled funny and stuck to everything and took ages to wash off. Pepper could not understand why anyone would want to go anywhere near it.
Everyone Loves the Mud Puddle
In the middle of the farmyard, there was a large, deep, gloriously gloopy mud puddle. It had been there forever. The other pigs adored it.
There was Bramble, who would run and leap into it every morning with a great big splash. There was Oat, who liked to sit right in the middle of it and close his eyes and hum. There was little Figgy, who was only small but made the biggest mess of all.
Every day they would call out to Pepper. “Come in! It is lovely! It is warm today!”
And every day Pepper would shake her head and take three careful steps backwards.
“No thank you,” she would say, very politely. “I am quite all right over here.”
And she would go and sit by the apple tree and watch from a safe distance.
The Hottest Day of the Year
Then one afternoon in the middle of summer, the sun turned up the heat.
It was the hottest day Pepper had ever felt. The air was thick and still. The ground was dry and dusty. Even the shade under the apple tree felt like sitting inside a warm oven.
Pepper fanned herself with one ear. It did not help.
She looked over at the mud puddle. Bramble was in there, eyes half-closed, sighing contentedly. Oat had his snout resting on the cool, dark edge. Figgy was rolling around like she had never been happier in her life.
“Is it… is it cool in there?” Pepper called out, a little reluctantly.
“Oh, wonderfully cool,” said Bramble, without opening her eyes.
Pepper looked at the mud. The mud looked back at her.
She took one step forward.
Then another.
Then one trotter, very slowly, touched the very edge of the puddle.
It was cold. And soft. And just a little bit… nice.
Pepper Makes Up Her Mind
Pepper stepped in. Both trotters. Then all four.
The mud was cold and squelchy. It was strange and a bit odd smelling. It oozed up between her toes in a way she had never felt before.
She stood very still. Bramble opened one eye. Figgy stopped rolling. Oat lifted his snout.
They all waited.
Slowly, very slowly, a small smile spread across Pepper’s face.
“Oh,” she said quietly.
She sat down. The cool mud pressed softly all around her. The heat that had been prickling at her ears and her nose and her back melted away completely.
“Oh,” she said again, a little louder this time.
Figgy giggled. Bramble smiled. Oat went back to humming.
Pepper lay back, just a little, and looked up at the blue sky above the farm. A butterfly drifted past. A cloud shaped like a turnip floated by. Everything felt slow and cool and wonderfully, perfectly calm.
The mud was still cold. It was still squelchy. It still smelled a little funny.
But it was also, Pepper decided, just a little bit wonderful.
That evening, after a good wash at the water trough, Pepper settled into her hay. She smelled of clean straw again. Her trotters were perfectly pink.
“Same time tomorrow?” called Bramble from across the yard.
Pepper thought about it for exactly one second.
“Maybe,” she said. “Just maybe.”
She closed her eyes and smiled, and drifted off to sleep to the sound of the wind in the apple tree.
✨ Moral: You will never know if you like something until you are brave enough to try it.