The Great Pig Incident
I was going through some of my old files and ran across something that is still talked about at our family gatherings, enjoy:
Yesterday, my sister was at the house with her youngest boy enjoying the pool. What a better way to beat the heat than read a book while watching your child do his best to pop a pool raft by landing on it from the diving board, you ask? Well I though it was an idyllic setting too, until I got a frantic call from my sister, screaming that there was a pig in the house, a huge pig, that she described with many modifiers ending in "ing".
I left work in the middle of a shoot (on a side note; one knows you live in a rural area when your client doesn't even bat an eye at such an excuse, as if hog invasions are a much more common occurrence than I would have thought, "Sure, hun, sounds like you need to hurry home"). I got home expecting to see "Hogzilla" in an easy chair and was not disappointed. What I found was my next door neighbor's grandchildren had accidently let his prize three hundred pound hog out, and the ensuing chase through the woods came to an end when Wilber went head first through my sliding glass door. The door did not break by the way, even after being bashed off its tracks, landing on a stone floor, and I expect being trampled by said pig. Good glass in that door.
My sister was standing on the couch, still yelling into the phone. She had called everyone she knew, the police or animal control were not on that list. My nephew's favorite thing at my house, besides the pool, is my old, single pump Daisy BB gun, which I am proud to say he was diligently using to defend his mother. Sister got a little miffed at me when I complimented him on his accuracy rather than scold him for shooting a gun in the house, but hey, when there is a hog in the house, rules change. The pig, having found the inside of my house not as inviting as he had hoped had already left through the same hole he entered, the neighbor's grandkids still in the woods, afraid to approach my house.
Today, I'm spending at home, cleaning. No real harm done but it does look like I staged a hobbit mud rastling contest. Every where from hip level down there is a hog sized swipe of mud. I think I'm ready for BBQ and will have an oriental rug, slightly soiled, for offer at my next yard sale.
Pork, the other white meat,