The Secret History of the Piggy Bank: Why Do We Call It That?

When we think about teaching children the value of saving money, one iconic object almost always comes to mind: a plump, ceramic pig with a coin slot on its back. It is a childhood staple, a nostalgic gift, and a universal symbol of thrift.

Yet, if you pause to think about it for even a moment, a strange question arises: Why a pig? Pigs aren’t known for hoarding wealth, and they certainly don’t have a reputation for frugality.

To solve this linguistic and cultural puzzle, we have to look past the snout and explore the fascinating history behind the piggy bank’s other names and origins.

What Else Is It Called? (Global Names for the Coin Vault)

While English speakers use “piggy bank,” cultures around the world have their own creative terms for these humble savings receptacles, many of which carry their own unique stories:

• Money Box (UK & Commonwealth): In British English, the more literal and traditional term is simply a “money box.” These weren’t always shaped like animals; historically, they were made of wood, metal, or glass and often secured with a tiny padlock.
• Cochinita or Alcancía (Latin America): In Spanish, alcancía is the general term for a coin container (derived from Arabic origins relating to earthenware). However, in many Latin American countries, they are affectionately called cochinitas or chanchitos—literally translating to “little pigs”—proving that the porcine fascination is global.
• Tirelire (France): The French term tirelire has a delightful onomatopoeic history. It is believed to have evolved from medieval terms imitating the sound of coins dropping into a box or the cheerful chirping of a bird.
• Salvadanaio (Italy): Literally translating to “money saver” (salva meaning save, and danaio meaning money), the Italian term focuses purely on the utility of the object rather than its shape.

The Great Etymological Misunderstanding: Pygg to Pig

How did the English language end up tying a farm animal to a financial vessel? The answer lies in a linguistic accident involving a type of clay.

Long before mass-produced plastic or porcelain novelties existed, English households stored loose change in jars and pots made from a dense, affordable orange-colored clay called “pygg” (sometimes spelled pigg).

During the 17th and 18th centuries, English potters would craft these orange clay jars for domestic use. If a customer went to the local market to buy a jar made of this material, they would ask a potter for a “pygg jar” or “pygg pot.”

Fast forward a couple of hundred years. The English language shifted, the word pygg fell out of everyday use, and the pronunciation morphed into the animal we know today: the pig. By the 19th century, English potters—likely leaning into a clever pun—began shaping these coin jars into the actual literal shape of a pig. What started as a material descriptor accidentally transformed into a literal animal figurine, cementing a permanent piece of folk etymology.

From Earthenware to Digital Vaults

The evolution of the piggy bank mirrors our evolving relationship with money itself:

1. The Ancient Roots: Long before “pygg” jars, ancient Greeks and Romans used ceramic boxes called thesaurus (meaning treasure or treasury) to stash coins. In the island of Java, ancient terracotta coin containers known as celengan (derived from the word for wild boar) date back to the Majapahit Empire.
2. The Victorian Novelty: Once the literal pig shape took off in Victorian England and America, the object shifted from a utilitarian storage container into an educational toy meant to teach children the virtue of delayed gratification.
3. The Modern Era: Today, while physical piggy banks remain beloved nursery decorations, our “money boxes” have largely gone digital. High-yield savings accounts, automated round-up apps, and digital sub-accounts have effectively become our modern, invisible piggy banks.

Why the Pig Endures

Despite the rise of digital banking and cashless societies, the classic piggy bank refuses to go extinct. Why? Because tangible symbols matter.

Feeding a physical coin into the slot of a ceramic pig provides a sensory, satisfying reward that a screen notification simply cannot replicate. It turns the abstract concept of saving into a physical action. Whether you call it a money box, an alcancía, a pygg jar, or a piggy bank, this little ceramic creature remains one of our most enduring cultural artifacts—reminding us that great fortunes truly do start with small, spare change.