My name is Woody the Beaver. I was the Three Little Pigs’ architect. If they’d listened to me, the first two would be alive today.

I got a visit from all three of them at once about a year ago. The first one had straw and asked me to build a house for him.

“Are you crazy?” I demanded. “How do you expect to live in a straw house? The wind could knock it over! You’d be homeless the first time a storm hit!”

“I want a straw house,” the pig said stubbornly. “You’re an architect, aren’t you? You build houses. Build me a straw house that can stand up to the bad weather.”

Well, I did the best I could. That wolf came, blew the house down and ate the pig. I tried to tell him no good could come of building a straw house.

The second pig had a bundle of fur. He was as stubborn as his brother. I was an architect, so I was supposed to build him a house of fur.

“It won’t be strong enough!” I said, thumping my tail against the water in frustration. “You’re not going to have any better luck than your brother!”

“I want this house built of fur and I want it done as soon as possible!” the pig insisted. “I’m paying you by the hour, so you’d better get started.”

The wolf came and blew the house down and the pig was eaten. I tried to tell him. Why is it that someone hires me, but doesn’t listen to my advice? It always gets them into trouble. I mean, it’s not like I don’t know my job.

Anyway, the third pig had much more sense. He came to me with a load of bricks. I built the house for him and it’s still standing.

I went to his house to collect my wages the day the wolf came for the last time.

“He’s been bothering me for days,” the pig whispered, trying not to let the wolf hear him. “He insists he’s going to eat me. He can’t blow the house down and I’ve managed to trick him twice. First he wanted to show me where I could find turnips. I went early and got the turnips before the wolf arrived. The same thing happened with a bushel of apples and a butter churn. But I’ve run out of ideas!”

“He’s trying to get down the chimney,” I whispered back. “You’ve got that kettle there. Take the lid off and when the wolf comes down his tail will be burned.”

The wolf burned his tail and ran away. Neither of us have seen him since. The pig and I are friends now. He gets lonely without his brothers. He even gave me double what I asked for in gratitude for my helping him get rid of the wolf. Pigs aren’t half bad, even if they can’t build dams to protect the dry land from floods.