Concord Monitor (N.H.), Aug. 5:

Pink 2.0, the pig whose life was so affectionately chronicled for six months by Monitor reporter Elodie Reed, is no more. Reed told us all along that Pink 2.0’s cozy routine at Miles Smith Farm in Loudon would come to this – a “humane” death in a local slaughterhouse.

No details were spared in Reed’s story about what happens on the “kill floor.” For those of us who were charmed from the start by the little piglet – but prefer to keep our pork chops anonymous – the end was tough to take.

We need to get closer to our food sources – that was the theme of “A Pig’s Life.” Not everyone thought so. Why, an outraged letter writer asked, did the Monitor run this “appalling and ill-advised series?” For the sake of children and animal lovers, did the account of Pink 2.0’s demise have to be so blatant? Including photos of pig carcasses, and details about electrocution and blood draining? One caller was distraught.

The birth and death of a pig is not news by the standard definition. It was sad to read about coaxing Pink 2.0 out of his pig shed and onto a trailer headed for his execution, and to see front page photos of two pork chops on the grill and Pink 2.0 waiting to be “processed.” Did we need a recipe in the Monitor’s Food section that same day headlined “Pink 2.0 made for tasty pork nachos”?

Was Pink 2.0’s story overdone?

Look at it this way. The saga of his short, tender life gave us a window into the hard work and commitment of local farmers who raise animals for food with respect and care. It made us think about meat, and where it comes from, and how it gets to our tables. The meat eaters among us don’t have to feel guilty. Life, and death, are part of farming, Pink 2.0’s owner, Carole Soule told Reed.

“I think it’s good for people who eat meat to know what it’s like to raise an animal,” Soule said. Every pig in the universe has a story, she said. But getting up close and personal with Pink 2.0 made it hard to accept his inevitable fate.

Pink 2.0 rooted around in the mud with his siblings, acting like pigs. He delighted when visitors rubbed his soft belly; as he grew up he became more social, welcoming a pat or a scratch. He ate two pounds of grain a day and weighed about 200 pounds in the end.

A photo of Pink 2.0’s little snout pressed up close to Reed’s camera was irresistible. All of this cute behavior elevated our own Pink 2.0 to the pantheon of loveable pig characters – the Three Little Pigs, Porky Pig, Babe, Wilbur from Charlotte’s Web, Piglet from Winnie the Pooh and even Miss Piggy. But there wasn’t going to be a happy ending for Pink 2.0. It was going to be reality. Pink 2.0 had a purpose. As reporter Reed and farmer Soule suggested, we should be grateful.

Next time you are at the grocery store, looking at a package of beef or chicken, or pork, think about Pink 2.0. Where did this meat – or poultry – come from? How was it processed? If the label says “All Natural,” what does that tell you? What about preservatives and antibiotics? Is it worth the extra dollars to know the meat you eat, the animal, the farmer and the butcher?

Pink 2.0 made us pay attention to our food, and in turn, good health for ourselves and our families. We think that’s a pretty good legacy, for a pig. His story – the whole story – was worth telling.