DEAR ABBY: My neighbors have a potbellied pig named Petunia. The pig sleeps in their house at night, but early in the morning she is let out to roam freely and has taken to coming to our house to dig holes in the garden and flowerbeds. After the first incident, the neighbors told me to just "spank" Petunia and send her home.

She recently decided to demolish my strawberry bed and melon patch. I had put many weeks of backbreaking work into them, and Petunia not only destroyed the fruit, she chewed the roots as well. When I called the neighbors to issue a third warning, I was told they were sorry and they would pay for the damage. Then they offered to give Petunia to me.

We live three miles outside the nearest town and we're not governed by animal-control laws. (The animal-control people know Petunia because she often crosses the highway and makes it into town to forage.) Their advice was to shoot the pig.

As an animal lover, I find this advice unacceptable. I have two dogs that I keep in a fenced yard and a kennel. They are not allowed to run unsupervised to tear up other people's property.

These neighbors claim they "want" to put up a fence, but can't afford to right now because they just purchased a new Cadillac. Four other neighbors in the path of destruction have also complained. How can I get through to them that Petunia is a pest before someone flies off the handle and starts taking potshots at the pig? -- PEEVED AT PETUNIA IN ELGIN, OKLA.

DEAR PEEVED: Since Petunia continues to roam unrestricted and her owners have told you they'd be willing to give her away, contact the nearest animal rescue group and ask if they can find a home for an adorable potbellied pig who needs love, attention and supervision. If the answer is yes, the next time Petunia wanders, a committee of neighbors should visit the owners and tell them a suitable home has been found for their problem pet. It shouldn't take a crystal ball to see that if she remains where she is, Petunia's future could be pork roast.

DEAR ABBY: I am a 23-year-old female hairdresser with a clientele of mostly young and middle-aged women. I like my job very much, but I'm just a hairdresser -- not a psychiatrist. You wouldn't believe the things people tell me. I wish they would leave their personal problems at home. At the end of the day, I'm so stressed out from listening to other people's problems I am a nervous wreck.

How can I get it across to them without hurting their feelings or losing their business that I really don't want to hear about their personal lives? -- STRESSED-OUT HAIRDRESSER

DEAR STRESSED-OUT: Women have confided in their hairdressers since the dawn of history. Most of them are venting, not seeking anything more than a sympathetic ear. Telling a client you don't want to hear about their personal lives could be interpreted as rude and uncaring. And a hairdresser who is perceived as rude and uncaring is a hairdresser with an empty chair.

A diplomatic approach might be to subtly shift the subject to something else if possible -- or even to tune out. Do you remember the old slogan, "Only Your Hairdresser Knows for Sure?" Well, here's another: "A successful hairdresser does a lot of listening but very little talking."

Abby shares more of her favorite, easy-to-prepare recipes. To order, send a business-size, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby, More Favorite Recipes, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)

DEAR ABBY: When our beloved son, Joel, was killed as a passenger in a one-car accident in October 1993, my husband and I were adopted by his college fraternity. These boys have surrounded us and enveloped us with love. It began at the funeral, when they all wore black armbands and openly showed their grief. An elderly friend said, "All we ever hear about are the others. If these are the youth of our country, then America is safe."

Joel's fraternity brothers initiated my husband, Patrick, into the fraternity and made me the chapter's first "Sweetheart of Sigma Pi." We are the only parents invited each year to their formal (where we present the Joel Patrick Sahli Award, named after our son). We receive Mother's Day and Father's Day cards, and phone calls, notes and postcards from European graduation trips. We are invited to their weddings, and they never pass through our area without visiting.

We would, of course, wish for our son back in a heartbeat. But we feel his presence through his brothers, who each carry him in their hearts. Loyola Marymount University's Sigma Pi are the epitome of kindness and love -- they are the BEST! -- ROSALINDA SAHLI, CARMEL-BY-THE-SEA, CALIF.

DEAR MRS. SAHLI: Thank you for your uplifting letter. I was delighted that so many readers responded to the suggestion that they write about the acts of kindness they had received. Since good news offsets the stressful tragedies we read about daily, I'm gratified to be able to print more of these heartwarming stories. Read on:

DEAR ABBY: Recently, while traveling through Mississippi, I panicked when I realized that I had left my billfold with credit cards and cash in the restroom of a gas station in Jackson, Miss., over two hours ago. As we turned back to try to find it, we doubted we could -- but hoped to avoid the complications of losing credit cards, etc.

When I got to the gas station, the employees informed me that a customer had found the billfold, turned it in, and that it had been held for me and I would have received a phone call about it that night, had I not returned. Through tears of relief and disbelief I tried to reward the employees -- but they would not accept anything, saying that maybe someday someone would do the same for them. -- JOLEEN LEWIS, SHAWNEE, OKLA.

DEAR ABBY: I was on my way to San Antonio, Texas, when my car had a blowout. A darling lady stopped to help me change the tire. The mechanics had put the lug nuts on my tire crooked, and had tightened them with an impact wrench -- so one lug stud was completely broken off, and the threads on another had been stripped. Not only did she help change the tire, she also followed me back to the nearest gas station, which was 20 miles from where the blowout occurred. Because of the damaged wheel, the trip back at 40 miles per hour took a lot longer than it would have at normal speed. She remained with me until I could locate a service station to help me with the wheel.

These days, very few people stop to help others; it's just too dangerous. However, that made no difference to this generous lady. She is truly one of God's angels here on earth. -- KAY HOLMES, SAN ANGELO, TEXAS

DEAR READERS: These letters, and those I printed last week, are only the tip of the iceberg. In coming months I will share more of these uplifting letters with you.

For an excellent guide to becoming a better conversationalist and a more attractive person, order "How to Be Popular." Send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby Popularity Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)

DEAR ABBY: Bill and I had 46 years together before I lost him to cancer. He was the kind of husband every woman needs.

In 1949, I had nine benign tumors removed from both breasts. Consequently, instead of a pretty bustline, I was left with two "bags."

Six months later, Bill and I were engaged. Three weeks before our wedding day, I found more lumps in my breasts. Heartsick, I told Bill and asked him if he wanted to call off our wedding. I told Bill if they operated again, even the "bags" might not make it.

He put his arms around me and said, "Don't worry, honey, whatever comes, we'll handle it." Then he smiled and added, "I am very fond of tangerines -- I never cared much for grapefruit."

Thank God it turned out to be scar tissue, and I went on to nurse all of our four wonderful children.

Abby, wasn't he a sweetie? -- VIRGINIA IN FLORIDA

DEAR VIRGINIA: Yes. You were blessed with an angel in disguise. My condolences on the loss of your sweetheart, who deserves a special place in heaven.

DEAR ABBY: "Wondering in Florida" expected to inherit a substantial sum of money and wanted information on charities to which she could donate.

I would like to remind her about colleges and scholarship programs when considering where to donate her inheritance. Education is expensive, and many qualified students cannot afford it. Establishing a scholarship program can be very rewarding.

Small colleges are the most forgotten and are in dire need of scholarship programs. Several years ago my husband and I set one up, and we're leaving our estate to a small college from which we graduated.

It is gratifying to know where your money is going. I have compiled a scrapbook of the many thank-you notes we have received from the recipients of our scholarships. Believe me, the money is appreciated! -- GLAD WE DID IN CALIFORNIA

DEAR GLAD: Yours is an excellent suggestion. Few deeds are more rewarding than helping a deserving young person create a bright future.

DEAR ABBY: "Angela in Savannah," a pharmacy intern who expressed frustration at the ignorance of her patients, asked, "Have you ever known anyone to EAT a suppository?"

Well, I have. During my nine years of nursing, I have known doctors to prescribe vaginal suppositories to be dissolved in the mouth for oral yeast infections. Guess what? It worked beautifully.

What Angela perceived as ignorance was a lack of communication between patients and the medical community. Consider this: When did the use of suppositories come up in your normal day-to-day conversation? How is one correctly used? Proper use of medication is not intuitive. If we, as medical professionals, convey the message that people would "know" such things, we discourage them from asking. By doing this, we contribute to their ignorance.

Perhaps we've forgotten our roots. The word "doctor" comes from the Latin word "docere," which means "to teach."

The most important lesson I have taught my patients: "There is no such thing as a dumb question." -- A LONGTIME NURSE, MORENCI, ARIZ.

For Abby's favorite family recipes, send a long, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $3.95 ($4.50 in Canada) to: Dear Abby, Cookbooklet No. 1, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, Ill. 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)