Babe: Pig in the City

- How long did you want to stay?
- I, uh... Two days.

- Will an attic room do?
- Uh... Well, I thought you...

That was just for the neighbors.
Heartless meanies.

Where do they expect
these poor creatures to go?

- Is he house-trained?
- Oh, yes. Just like you and me.

Do we provide meals? No.
But is there a convenience store?
Yes. Two blocks south.

And what is the golden rule?
Never answer the front door.

It might be an inspector.

Mind that step.
What happens if you need anything?
You knock on this door on the left.
Who lives there? I do.
Where's the bathroom?
End of the landing.

Do we provide towels?
What is that, a canine? Huh?
You canine? Little puppy dog?

Flealick, come back.
We don't know where it's been.

- Do we, Alan?
- No, Nigel.

- Feline. You're a cat?
- Do I look like a cat?

How do I know? I got the myopia. I can
barely see. If you're a cat, you gotta scat.

Hey! Kitty! You got no business
being on this floor!

You got that? No felines
on this floor. Period!

Where's the pay phone?
In the foyer.

Local calls only.
And where does the little piggy stay
at all times?

In the room.
Meow, meow, meow, meow
Meow, meow, meow

And where does the dear little fella
do his necessaries?

In the kitty litter.
Who empties it?
You do.
Any questions?

Oh. Where do I make
a long-distance phone call?

Oh, uh, two blocks south.