What Is Another Name for a Piggy Bank?

Beyond the Slot: The Surprising History, Global Names, and Psychology of the Piggy Bank

When you think of saving your spare coins as a child, an image almost certainly springs to mind: a plump, pink ceramic pig with a slot in its back and a rubber stopper underneath. It’s an iconic childhood keepsake. But have you ever stopped to wonder why we call it a piggy bank when it’s rarely made of actual pork, or what other fascinating names people around the world use for this humble vessel?

The story of the piggy bank is a linguistic accident, a global journey through materials and idioms, and a surprisingly powerful psychological tool.

1. What’s in a Name? The Accidental Etymology of “Piggy Bank”

If you search for alternative names for a piggy bank, you’ll find terms like coin bank, money box, penny bank, or savings bank. But how did the animal connection happen in the first place?

The term doesn’t actually come from the farm animal. Back in Middle English, a dense, orange-brown clay used for making household pots, jars, and kitchenware was called “pygg.”

During the 17th and 18th centuries, potters would craft these clay pots to hold spare money. People referred to them as “pygg jars” or “pygg banks.” Over generations, as the English language shifted, the word pygg evolved in pronunciation until it sounded identical to the animal, pig. By the 19th century, English potters—ever fond of a clever pun or literal interpretation—began shaping these money containers into the actual shape of pigs. The linguistic misunderstanding became a physical reality, and a global tradition was born.

2. Global Monikers: What the Rest of the World Calls It

While English speakers default to “piggy bank,” different cultures have entirely different names, shapes, and symbolisms for their coin receptacles:

• The Spanish Alcancía: Derived from Arabic origins, this term usually refers to a traditional earthenware money box. In many Latin American cultures, breaking open an alcancía (often shaped like various animals or globes) at the end of the year is a festive tradition.
• The German Sparschwein: True to the pig tradition, the German word literally translates to “saving pig” (Spar = saving, Schwein = pig). The phrase “Schwein haben” (to have pig) even means to have good luck or fortune, tying saving money directly to prosperity.
• The Japanese Chokinbako: Meaning literally “savings box,” Japanese coin banks historically took many forms, including the famous Maneki-neko (beckoning cat) banks, which are believed to invite wealth and good business.
• The French Tirelire: A charming historical term for a money box, with an onomatopoeic ring that mimics the clinking sound of coins dropping inside.

3. From Clay Pots to Digital Vaults: The Evolution of the Money Box

The concept of saving money in a sealed container goes back thousands of years. Long before the “pygg” jar of medieval England, ancient Greeks and Romans utilized coin boxes.

• Ancient Greece: Excavations in the ancient Greek city of Priene have uncovered coin hoards and terracotta vessels featuring slits specifically designed for depositing coins dating back to the 2nd century BC.
• The Modern Utility: Traditionally, these banks were designed to be completely sealed. To get your money out, you literally had to break the bank—a physical barrier designed to make you think twice before spending your savings on fleeting impulses.
• The Digital Shift: Today, “piggy banks” have evolved into digital apps, smart piggy banks with LCD screens, and automated round-up savings accounts. Yet, despite the rise of cashless societies, the physical pig endures as a nostalgic symbol of financial mindfulness.

4. The Psychology of the Pig

Why do we still love the piggy bank in an era of digital banking? Behavioral psychologists point to the power of tangible interaction.

When money is just a digital number on a screen, it lacks friction. Spending it requires a tap or a click. In contrast, dropping a heavy metal coin into a ceramic slot provides a physical sensory reward—the satisfying clink sound, the heavy weight of accumulation, and the visual feedback of a container filling up over time.