Dad vs. the Pig (cont)

  It was a smallish pig, pink with white hair.  Along the the side of the road was a parked minivan and a woman who was trying to catch the pig ..... she was waving me down.  In the minivan  was a wide eyed 7 year old girl.  "Can you help me catch the pig?" she asked. "I don't want it to get run down"   .... Hmmm I thought, how hard can it be to catch a pig?  

So I parked the car. ... Well, I say "the car", but really I was driving Mom's Explorer.

"So, ... when did your pig get loose" I asked making small talk as we herded the pig off the road. "Oh its not my pig.  I don't know who owns it" she said. ..."Hmmm" I thought again.

The pig wasn't interested in being caught and would pretend not to be paying attention until we got close.  Then he'd take off snorting his little pig snorts.  Whenever you'd manage to actually touch him, He'd scream bloody murder and dash off even faster.

Then came my epiphany (I've always wanted to use that word in a sentence).  Pigs like food!  OK not much of an epiphany ...  BUT I had just been to the store and had some Atkins protein bars in the back.  That did the trick.  The pig loved Atkins bars.  So I'd break off a piece and the pig would come right up to me while my new pig-herding friend would sneak around behind to grab the pig.  .... Boy those pigs can scream  .... and wiggle.  After a couple of failed attempts we traded places.  I gave the woman the Atkins bar and I would grab the pig.  She was a little afraid that she might get bitten so she held the whole Atkins bar at arms length.

The pig saw his chance.  He grabbed the whole bar and took off like a shot.  You know, those pigs can be pretty fast when they want to be.

OK ...  back to the first plan.  I hold out the Atkins bar ( a new one) and my pig cowboy friend catches the pig.  Just as we are about to make one last try, she says "shall we put it in your car?"

"Well gee, I guess"  is about all I could think of to say.  What I was thinking was ... "WHAT??"

"What were you going to do with it once you caught it?" I asked.  "well, there's an animal hospital quarter mile up the road." she said.  " I was going to take it there."

That seemed pretty reasonable, so ... I lured the animal with the bar and she grabbed it. Amid the screaming, squealing, grunting, and snorting  we manage to get it into the back of Mom's car. 

The pig seemed pretty happy to be rooting around the boxes that were back of the Explorer (Mom had picked up some of our stored boxes earlier).  I turned around to see my pig-herding companion and her 7 year old daughter driving off, her arm waving out the window in a cheery goodbye.  The daughter's nose was pressed up against the backseat window.

Now it was just me and the pig.  The pig was still happily snorting and pushing his way through the boxes.

"OK pig, lets find that animal hospital" I said.  The pig snorted ... still rummaging through our stuff.  As I turned the car around, the pig began rooting a bit more enthusiastically.  Up ahead, a little old lady was standing in her driveway sort of wringing her hands.  She was about 75 and wore blue sweats and running shoes.

Aha! The pig's owner.  So I pulled in.  "Are you looking for a pig?"

It dawned on me that  that was a pretty stupid way to begin a conversation  ... so I started again. "I found a pig along the road. Is it yours?"  "No, it probably belongs to my neighbor across the street.   .... She's got duck's and chickens .. she probably has a pig too." she said.  

"Is she home?" I asked.  "No. She should have been home earlier.  She picks up her daughter at grade school and is usually home by now."

By now the pig had worked his way up toward the front  .. just behind the driver's seat, and was poking me in the arm with his snout.  I wasn't going to give him any more protein bars, and that was that.  The pig somehow thought I was his new best friend.  I wasn't.

"Hold on" I said, and rolled up the window and got out.  The pig's poking was getting annoying.

I told her of my plan to take the pig up the road to the animal hospital.  She thought that would be a capital idea.  She'd watch for the neighbor and direct her to the hospital when she got home.

A quarter mile up the road sure enough there was the animal hospital.  We pulled in.  I left the pig still rooting around.

The reception area was empty, but I could see three people in the back wearing scrubs and chatting.  "Be right there" one yelled out.  Soon a young woman came out   ..."Linda" her lapel nameplate informed me.

 I explained what had happened and that I was looking for a temporary place to put the pig until its owner comes to get it.

"We don't do pigs" she said.  "Well Linda" I said, "I don't want you to do the pig, just store it for an hour"  At that, a young man in hospital scrubs stuck his head around the corner.  "You could take the pig to the animal shelter in Roswell" he said.  "I think they may take it".

Hmmm ... let me see. Drive 30 miles in rush hour traffic with a pig ...hoping to get there before they close, on the off chance that they might take it  ..... That's not going to happen

OK  ... So now its back to the car.  Doesn't that pig ever stop snorting and grunting?  

It's just me and the pig   .... again.

  I'm now beginning to think that this whole pig thing is getting a bit out of hand.  And I might have to either A) Set the pig free or B) Bring the pig home with me.  Either choice is disastrous.  If I set the stupid thing free, PETA or SPCA will probably have me arrested for pig endangerment or some such thing.  If I bring it home, Kim would probably throw me out of the house  ... Karin  too.

As I pull out of the animal hospital parking lot, mom's explorer is beginning to smell ... well  ... a little on the piggy side.  A not altogether pleasant smell.  And to top it off, the pig's exploration of the back of the explorer is taking a decidedly more animated tone.  There's a lot of crashing and banging going on.

With no where else to go, I head back to the little old lady's house.  She's sitting on the side porch smoking a cigarette (I guess the sweats and running shoes are just a ruse).

As I walk up and greet her with a jaunty "Hi".  She looks at me a bit warily ... "Hi" she says.  "They wouldn't take the pig" I said. "Oh dear" she says. "And the lady hasn't returned yet." 

The little old lady then suggests we put the pig in a box to keep it until the woman comes home.  This sounds like a great idea to me.  She trundles off and returns with a box about half the size it needed to be.  ... It's all she had.

"OK" I said.  "Your pretty sure the lady across the street owns the pig.  I'm going to take the pig over there and see if I can find an empty pen".  "Here" she said "let me come with you".  We headed back the car to find the pig sitting in the drivers seat drinking my diet coke.  ...He seemed pretty happy until I reclaimed my coke and pushed him to the back.  Then he screamed his pig scream.  The area is semi rural and nearly all the homes are built on acreage.  This home was in a heavily wooded area.  As we drove to the house the little old lady introduced herself. 

Mrs. Granville was born and raised here in the Alpharetta area.  Her husband died about 3 years ago.  I introduced myself and told her about our family.

We drove down a winding driveway to the house.  We checked the house and found no one home.  But sure enough, we found a makeshift pig pen a little ways off .... empty.  The pig pen had a small pig sized hole in the back.  After a makeshift repair.  I went back to car to drive the pig to his pen.  AS soon as I got in, the pig started to nip at my arm.  I'm not sure what that was all about.  Maybe he knew that I was going to take him home ... maybe he wanted the coke ... maybe he wanted another protein bar  ... or maybe he was just a darn pig.  After slapping the pig a few times, he gave up the nipping.  After wrestling the pig into the pen, Mrs. Granville refilled his water bowl and we said goodbye. comrades in pig saving.  The downside of this escapade is the car had a decidedly rank pig aroma.

I still don't know if we left the pig at its home.  But I haven't been arrested and Kim and Karin are letting me stay awhile longer.

Driving home with the windows down, I can't help thinking there's a lesson here. I'm just not sure what it is

Post Script: 

             Okay, this is Mom speaking, and I just might come up with a lesson or two.  How about the one your mother taught you about not speaking to strangers?  But, here's even a better one:  NEVER, NEVER PUT A LIVE PIG IN MOM'S SUV!!!

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