Things went rather uneventfully, except for one precious little anecdote.
As I dressed this morning, I was sorrowed to realize that my jeans were dirty and that I would have to don my work khakis, which have a sizable tear across the left knee.
As I reported in my post on loading El Guapo, the only way that works in getting a scared and angry hog up a ramp he has no wish to climb is to get as low as one can, firmly place both knees in his rump, and push like one's life (or at least one's long-desired bacon consumption) depends on it. (Real farmers out there, please enjoy a hearty laugh at our expense and then send us an email detailing a reasonable way of doing this.) Well, as I was saying, I was donning my torn khakis when at one point this morning as I was muscling Ned toward the ramp I detected a strange sensation on my leg. That's right, you guessed it, our little friend was pooping directly through the hole in my knee and into my pant leg. Luckily I realized it before too much had stormed the breach; nevertheless, one would be correct in saying that any pig poop in one's pants is too much pig poop in one's pants.
Having realized the error of my wardrobe choice and the no-holds-barred approach our adversary was taking, we renewed our zeal and manhandled the swine into the truck.
Then, after Lucky uttered a terrible grunt we muscled Lucky up the ramp as well. I can assure you, there wasn't a smellier duo ambling across Polk County this morning than the two of us!
Sadly, we only managed one small pic on Steph's cheap cell phone. Here's Neddy, taking one last breath of clean, fresh Wisconsin air before heading in to meet his sausage maker!
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| Bye Neddy! (Lucky napping on the floor to his right) |
Sooooooooweeeeeeee!!
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