Got a phone call from Mario, claiming he had an emergency situation where he needs a pig. Figure that one out. I didn't even ask. It was full dark by this time, seven or so, and he's at least an hour away. The last thing I wanted to do was catch pigs. My day was done. I was ready for a bath, a remote control, and a comfy horizontal surface to stretch out on. However, being ‘pig poor’ we needed the sale and told him to come on ahead, we would work it out.
He showed up around eight thirty with a few helpers in a 1998 suburban with a tweaked out interior, no crate, no rope, nothing. Furthermore, after he viewed the stock he said he wanted not one, but two pigs in the 100-120 pound range. We had 'em, but wanted to know where he was gonna put 'em.
“These things are pretty dirty.†We say. “They can be hard on that interior too. You sure you don’t want to come back with a pickup truck tomorrow?â€Â
"Oh, we put 'em in de back, is okay, is okay." He assured us.
My husband and I glanced at each other and shrugged. Is okay with us too.
I thought the lady who came in the 2002 Mustang with the leather interior, the other day and bought a fifty pounder and threw it in the backseat with the kids was the limit. But off she went, pleased as punch to have it.
My poor son. I think I know why he gets away with as much mischief as he does. When there's a dirty job to be done, his name is always the first to be called.
He and my husband, and Mario and Company are out there in the dark, chasing these pigs around in ankle deep mud, running into each other and being dragged unceremoniously through guck and goop, and laughing their heads off the whole time.
I have my own system. I've had to catch too many pigs by myself so I use a hackamore arrangement. It sounds stupid, but I make a loop on the ground with a rope and bait the pigs close with feed, and when one steps inside the loop I pull it tight around the chest and then loop once around the neck, slip the free end of the rope under where the two go over the back and then again two or three times, and then cinch it tight. I can drag that pig to kingdom come without getting the first dab of mud on me. Oh they pull and yank, and about drag me off my feet, but I've done it a few times and have learned to do it quick.
No one was listening to me though, so I decided not to participate in this particular sale, but just to watch. By the time it was over and the pigs were loaded (forty five or so minutes later) and ready to go, my husband and son were covered head to toe in the most dubious smelling goo, and Mario and his friends were grinning like possums.
I was gazing at the deep maroon carpeting in the back of the suburban and bidding it a fond farewell. Mario and my husband shook hands and I wandered over to the porch light and counted the proceeds, thinking of the phone bill.
On impulse I peeled off a ten dollar bill and slipped it to my son.
"For your trouble,†I say, “now strip off on the back porch before you go in the house"
This was the first time we actually paid him for helping with the pigs. Everybody needs a little motivation and that ten dollars was as good as a hundred to him. Now he was grinning like a possum. I patted him on the back and went off in search of that bath.
Reply With Quote
