Swine: Part Two

Once, before she grew too large to manage, we got Ruby in to see a vet. He took one look at her fat-enclosed eyes and ordered a diet. We bought elder pig food from the feed store, but Ruby wouldn't eat it. She grunted and rootled around for the dog food for two days, starving in protest. The day she gave in was a day of triumph, but Ruby never lost a pound.

Allen also had a pet rat terrier named Scout, and because this is a family show, I will not mention Scout's devoted interest in Ruby's journey into womanhood. Sometimes we had to look away.

In addition to Scout and Ruby, we also owned a dog named Jim. Gentle, loving, beta-dog Jim was afraid of thunderstorms, flying  into a panic at the first rumble. He would sprint for cover into the "pigloo", forcing his way into Ruby's lair. Molly, our alpha-female Australian shepherd, followed close behind, and the whole pigloo would rock and shake and vibrate from the protest Ruby sent up. The barking and squealing would rage amidst the storm while we hung laughing over the couch at the back window. Poor Jim never learned.

One day, I became fed-up with this animal farm we lived on, and announced that along with a new set of puppies, I was advertising Ruby and Molly in the paper. Allen said, "You'll never get rid of 'em.", but Molly went quickly because she was great guard dog material. Ruby received the most interest from folks wanting to know how edible she was. I called my sister nightly to share the crazy calls I fielded all day. Her favorite quote is still: "Is that pig really free?"

I had to carefully choose Ruby's new owner, but she was eventually hauled away by a grandfatherly-type gentleman who owned acres of land along the Ghost River, and had grandchildren to amuse. (Fat chance, Sucker.)

Ruby didn't go quietly, and since Allen feared breaking her spindly, inadequate pig legs, he trained the leaf blower on her. It took us thirty minutes to haul Ruby's hairy black ass off our property, and when she was secured and squealing on her new owner's trailer, Allen begged them not to shoot her for food. He said he would shoot her himself if that is what they intended. He got a look for that. Oh, he got himself a look.

As for me, I happily brushed the dust off my hands, and wished Ruby a fond farewell. I don't believe that as she rolled away she could see where she was going. She surely squealed the whole trip, but as upset as she must have been, she was probably sniffing the wind for dinner.