A quick scan of my brain for Chinese celebrities produces a list consisting of Jackie Chan, Stephen Chow, Chow Yun-fat and a handful of others.  Narrow that search to celebrities born after 1990 and my database returns the message No Records Found.

So it comes as no surprise to me that I haven't heard of Zhu JianQiang. My Chinese friends however can't quite comprehend. "Surely you know him?"

I shake my head.

There are audible gasps.

"But he's the most famous pig in China?" they go to tell me.

Oh, and apart from being born after 1990, I forgot mention this celebrity is a pig.

But he's no ordinary pig I'm assured.  Definitely not like the usual animal celrebrities that get by on their looks or because they know someone in the business. No, this pig has talent and what's more, his story is one of courage and determination that inspired a nation at a time they needed it most. 

Like all the great stars Zhu came from humble beginnings. He was born on a simple farm in Pengzhou, Sichuan. At the time his owner, a farmer named  Wang, didn't even name the piglet because, simply put, he was most likely going to end up on someone's dinner table. 

But fate stepped in on a muggy May afternoon in 2008. A dormant fault ruptured beneath the mountains nearby turning Pengzhou and many other areas into disaster zones. The shaking spared little of feebly constructed buildings in the area including farmer Wang's house and the sty where be housed his pigs. The family, fearing for their lives, fled to safer ground. 

It was another 36 days before an army rescue team made it to the farm again. By then the disaster was known as the Sichuan Earthquake, the largest disaster to hit China in a long time. The rescuers, weary and tired, entered the farm and had no doubt resigned themselves  that the chances of finding anyone or anything alive was zero.

So you could imagine their surprise began to hear signs of life coming from the rubble. With bare hands they moved debris until they found the source of the noise. There he was: a scrawny pig who was dirty and weak but very much alive. 

News of this miracle spread fast. A little pig had amazingly survived for over a month drinking rainwater and chewing on lumps of charcoal. The story dared the wounded nation to believe again.

Within days this nameless pig given title fitting for his character:  A strong-willed pig people said, or in Chinese: Zhu JianQiang. 

A few days after hearing his story I'm on a bus to see the pig for myself. But not to Pengzhou, I'm heading to Anren, a town on the outskirts of Chengdu. Not long after he stepped out of the rubble stardom came knocking. First  TV stations, newspapers and magazines came looking for scoops, next the tourist came looking to take photographs and finally businessmen with deep pockets came making offers. In the end it was JianChuan, a extravagant billionaire, who won out. He saw Zhu JianQiang as a perfect addition to his earthquake museum in Anren. That's where I'm headed. 

To his credit JianChuan has managed to source some interesting artifacts, some 5,000 in all. He has shipped in tonnes of wreckage directly from the quake zone. Outside there's a display of vehicles crushed by falling debris. This is where I find Zhu JianQiang, sandwiched between a badly damaged government salon car and a banged-up bulldozer.  

He lies on a bed of hay in a small animal pen. A sign depicting a jolly cartoon pig hangs overheard and announces: the home of Zhu JianQiang. The cartoon image is in stark contrast to the real thing. The years have not been kind to the superstar. He's overweight and in all the time I stood outside his pen he never  moved.

"Things used to be different," the security guard tells me. "There was a time when he would wander the park mingling with the guests."

While we talk a mother and her son come by and they look less than impressed. The mother bangs on the glass surrounding the pen.

"Is he dead?" the child asks.

"I think so," the mother concludes.

I'm not sure what's sadder, that they believe the poor animal should pounce to life on command or that they believe that carcass of a pig would left on display for entertainment purposes.

"Of course he's alive," the security guards tells them, "he's just tired."

It's been 10 years since the earthquake. The massive crowds that once came have slowed to a trickle.

"But he's still in the hearts of many people," the guard firmly believes. 

"Sure, everyone in China knows him," I say suddenly noting that by numbers alone that would make him the most famous living animal in the world.

As I turn to leave I see Zhu JianQiang stir in his sleep. His legs twitch slightly. Could he be dreaming? I wonder. Maybe he's dreaming of the days when queues of people came to see him and he could wander the park. Then again maybe he's dreaming of those carefree days on the mountain before everything changed. I guess I'll never