Clippings by John Flowers: This little piggy won’t cooperate
I’ve grown accustomed to seeing a lot of different cars, trucks, motorcycles, tractors and even deer chugging out of our dirt road and exiting onto Plank Road in Bristol during the past 20 years.
But what I saw a week ago Friday caused me to do a double take. No, make that a triple take.
Mid-way into my turn I found myself braking for none other than the Three Little Pigs, who had mounted a successful porcine prison break from their fenced-in house of sticks at our neighbors’ place.
“Well that’s something you don’t see everyday…” I thought, as Bacon, Sausage and Ham ambled purposefully past my vehicle.
Not seeing any facsimile of pig herder behind them, I quickly realized the pigs weren’t out on furlough. So I sped over to Ryan and Melissa’s house to ask them if they were missing anything.
Melissa’s eyes bugged out when I informed her that her pigs were making leg bail — make that hoof bail — toward New Haven. The first word out of her mouth was “Again?” so I knew the pigs’ faces had appeared on milk cartons before.
She quickly mobilized her family for the pork recovery operation while I went home to change out of my tie and dress shoes. I was really overdressed for the occasion.
As I jogged back to the scene, I could see that Melissa, her three children and two passersby had successfully intercepted the two males. Everyone knows the quickest way to a man’s heart — and apparently also a male pig’s — is through his stomach. So Melissa got them to return to the general vicinity of their pen by shaking a container of grain. The hypnotic sound of the rattling, coupled with some persistent shoving on our part, got the two males back into their hut.
But unfortunately, Miss Piggy decided she was not going to be as cooperative. Some might call her stubborn, but you can’t help thinking she was perhaps just a little smarter than her boy companions. Did she know deep down that “home” was the departure point for that green (eggs and ham) mile to an unappetizing fate as a delicious dinner side dish or Easter main course?
Whether pig savant or simply intent on enjoying a little time on the other side of the fence, Miss Piggy wasn’t budging. No matter how much we pulled, the pork wasn’t giving.
Soon, Ryan arrived back home to lend his muscle to the effort. Four men versus one pig; enough to bring home the bacon, you’d think. But no. Plump Miss Piggy, who must’ve tipped the scales at around 220 pounds, was proving a formidable adversary. We’d push, and she’d scrunch down and dig her hooves into the ground. We’d advance her 12 feet and she’d break loose and retreat 15 feet. We thought about trying to grab her by the limbs to carry her, but reconsidered that plan when we saw Miss Piggy’s teeth. They could leave a nasty mark.
We tried to rope her so as to be able to drag her without hurting her, but again she hunkered down. She punctuated her displeasure with some of the shrillest squealing you ever heard in your life. It must have been quite the comical scene (except to Miss Piggy) for anyone ambling by, so much so that I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure we weren’t being filmed for a segment of “America’s Funniest Home Videos.”
Forty-five minutes into the operation and sweating profusely, we decided it was time to tie a bow on the pig. Well, not exactly. We were able to restrain her limbs to the point where she could be gently deposited into the bed of a pickup truck. A quick ride later, and Miss Piggy was back in the pig-itentiary.
Ryan has since fortified the pen to foil future Houdini attempts by the three pigs.
Pork — it’s much more than “the other white meat.”
It’s an adventure.
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