Yesterday was….pigalicious. And that doesn’t mean we got to eat a great deal of pork.
For the most part, raising pigs is a fun and exciting, albeit strenuous, good time.
Yesterday, not so much.
We were scheduled to take our biggest hog in to be butchered, but he saw through the ruse. And staunchly refused to get into the trailer. Have you ever seen a huge pig run? It’s comical, to say the least. They also jump and squeal and snip.
We pushed and cajoled and begged that animal to get into the trailer. His friends would go in! And back out again. It was full of his favorite treats and a cozy bit of straw. What wasn’t to love about it?
The end destination, I guess. Is there a sixth sense of pig-hood? This guy has it, if there is.
Our clock was ticking. The drop off window at the butcher was quickly closing and school was getting ready to start. I guess Christopher was going to miss biology class. And probably Algebra, as well.
What’s a fat pig plus strong man squared divided by trailer? A hot mess, that’s what.
After pleading and prodding, literally, the old beast won. He gleefully waved farewell and went back to munching his acorns.
Later that evening, strolling with a well deserved cold brew, Andrew and I turned the corner of our woods and came face to face with a big black hog, proudly strutting on the wrong side of the fence.
I’m joyfully looking forward to my calendar full of butcher dates.