(Photo by Stina Sieg - KJZZ)

Ironwood Pig Sanctuary cares for nearly 600 pigs, including Ashley. Many were sold as "mini," "tea cup" or "nano pigs" - but ended up being anything but.

Miniature pet pigs have become a big fad across the country — and sometimes, a big problem. The Internet is filled with images of cute, tiny pigs, as well as promises from breeders they will stay that way. But that’s not always the case.

Meet Santa, one of the many unwanted oinkers in Arizona. A few months ago, he was found in an abandoned house in Tucson. Now he’s a resident of the Ironwood Pig Sanctuary, deep in the desert a little bit north of the city. Santa is black and furry, and at 25 pounds, he runs around like a happy puppy.

“Therein lies the problem,” said Mary Schanz, a cofounder of Ironwood. “They’re adorable, and people have to have them.”

She has seen it so many times. Some unscrupulous breeders promise their pigs will stay Santa’s size forever, but they sometimes grow into 200-pound porkers. Schanz said the sanctuary accepts about 75 new pigs a year.  

“And we don’t take in all the pigs we’re asked to take in,” she said. “And we get calls and emails almost daily now.”

Schanz and her husband, Ben Watkins, opened the nonprofit sanctuary, where pigs roam and wallow in vast fields, nearly 14 years ago. Back then, Vietnamese pot-bellied pigs were the rage. Now, it’s all about so-called mini pigs.

Both are smaller than farm hogs, but their weight can swing wildly. That’s why Ironwood’s population is now close to 600 pigs, which are not tiny anymore. Most were bought as babies, then given up when, or before, they reached their full weight, which can take up to four years.

The place is a kind of a hybrid of swine summer camp and senior center, buffered by about 100 acres of desert that can’t be developed. Young, healthy pigs romp in large exercise yards, while older pigs live out their final years in assisted living and hospice areas. There are Wilburs, Daisies and, yes, even two Kevin Bacons.

And Si, who’s recovering from a broken leg. Watkins makes sure to give him extra attention, petting Si as the pink-and-black pig sat in the shade of his own pen.

“One vet recommended we put him down. How can we put him down? I mean, you know,” Watkins said, before turning directly to the little pig. “Huh, Si?  We’re not going to do it to you, sweetie.”

Instead, he might get shipped to Tennessee for surgery. The money to send him will mostly come from individual donations, which make up the vast majority of Ironwood’s $850,000 annual budget. The couple, who volunteer their time, have cared for huge pigs that were kept in tiny cages by hoarders and baby pigs that were used as bait in pit bull fighting rings. Sometimes, Schanz said, even people with good intentions don’t fully get what it takes to be a pig parent.

“They don’t understand that they need space and that they need to be able to root, and they need companionship,” she said. “You know, there’s much more to it than just, you know, I want that little baby pig.”

But sometimes, it does work out.

Miles of desert away in Scottsdale, Beth Schutte dropped a few pellets of pig food into a bowl for her little house-broken pig.

“Eat, Freddie, eat,” she said, though the chocolate mini pig clearly needed no direction.

Freddie — full name Frederick Wellington — chomped and licked and munched loudly, before taking a large swig of water.

“I love him no matter what. He is my baby,” Schutte said. “He is unbelievable, more than I ever expected him to be, really.”

Freddie’s still only 19 pounds at a year old, and though Schutte said he’s almost full grown, she doesn’t care how big he gets. But a lot of people buy these pigs under the pretense they’ll stay small.

“So you have to really be careful when you’re doing research on breeders,” Schutte said, “you were to get a pig tomorrow — and granted, all piglets look the same when they’re born — if you were to get a pig tomorrow, it’s not going to be a mini pig.”

And even if it is, that doesn’t mean it’s going to be a good fit for you. Over in Mesa, Dr. Heather Bjornebo is one of the few vets in the Valley who treats pet pigs. They come in all the time to Arizona Exotic Animal Hospital, which also has a branch in Phoenix. They can be “really awesome animals,” she said — for the right home.

“And I think that’s what’s important for people to know, is that just because you think it looks cool, doesn’t mean you’re going to think it’s as cool in six months," Bjornebo said.   

If you’re pondering a pig, Bjornebo knows one way to help make you’re not being seduced by a cute piglet: adopt an adult. There are hundreds at Ironwood Pig Sanctuary, where adoptions take place every year.