My sister and her dog came down from the big sitttttay to have a visit. We all met up at mom's with plans to eat copious amounts of finger food and then take naps. We also planned to clear out a room upstairs which also happens to be the room we lock mom's pig in to keep her from becoming chow. Captain is the pooche's name, he's an American Bulldog and the mortal enemy of all livestock. We live right down the road so Penelope (the pig) was to come stay in our dog lot for the day.
"Oh sure, mom, I'll totally come pick her up! No biggie."
Wrong.
Needless to say, pigs do not enjoy traveling. Perhaps it's an innate fear that they are headed for a giant skewer and fire pit--I don't know. What I do know is that sucker
Shannon was able to wrangle Penelope up and out of her sad, strange predicament. He was not, however, able to maintain control of her screeching, wiggly, super strong pig body. She managed to squirm out of his grasp and run away, eating acorns and random shit off the ground the entire way. It was then that I noticed a ginormous glob of green pig excrement caked on the back of my hand.
The next 45 minutes or so were spent following dear piggy around the yard as she pranced, wagged her little tailed, ate dirt and made certain to stay just out of our reach. We chucked saltines at her in hopes of coaxing her towards the pen but she knew something was up. Pigs are intelligent assholes. Our last resort was to try and throw a towel over her and hope for the best. Again, Penelope bested us. Yep, I was done.
"Mom, you need to come get this pig because I'm pretty sure she'll still fit in my crockpot."
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"Mom, you need to come get this pig because I'm pretty sure she'll still fit in my crockpot."
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The fabric for Avery's skirt is Keepsake Calico's Multi-Mod Floral
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