The Day No Pigs Would Die (and lamb is what's for dinner)

Nothing screams “WRITE IN YOUR BLOG” louder than a crazy déjà vu.  Sadly, this entry is much like its predecessor, but thankfully with a very different grander meaning.

On this fabulous Friday, I had the pleasure of a well spent morning home alone, followed by some relaxation and a lengthy writing session where I felt I was making excellent progress.  As Bach, performed by Yo Yo Ma, wafted and commingled with my brainwaves, a sudden shriek followed by my dogs zooming off the porch and into the depths of the yard zapped me back to my consciousness of the here and now.  As I headed out to see what was up, the unmistakable squeal of a pig penetrated my soul.

OH MY GOD!

Off I ran, and lo and behold, yes both had gotten out AGAIN.  I called off the dogs, but what’s this?  They ignored me.  I covered an important task, heading straight to the garden gate to shut it tight so that the whirling dervish of animals could only do so much damage, leaving the garden unscathed.

The ringleader, my border collie who presently is on the naughty list, was intractable.  He was attacking one pig while the other two dogs joined in for sport.  Maybe shrieking for him to stop wasn’t effective, but neither was my normal command voice.  Finally, I threw a football at him, and he came to, finally following orders. 

But not willingly...  I had him by the collar, pulling him towards the house, when he decided that maybe I wasn’t really in charge.  Now I had one dog pulling me while the other two KEPT at the pig.  This was truly awful and ugly.  I had nowhere to go, pigs running amuck with crazed dogs flanking them at every turn, and Cujo at arm’s length snarling to get back into the fray.

I looked up and saw the closest field was unoccupied, so I went for it with the dog.  He protested, but it wasn’t too far, so I had confidence.  When we got there I saw I had been mistaken of its emptiness as a donkey and two rams were settled behind the barn.  We darted in and shut the gate, then I quickly got the border collie into an adjacent field, realizing he might give the sheep a hard time.  OH!  How I wish I hadn’t been so considerate.



It's a pity that you bruised my hip 'cause I'm....
(Chrissy Hynde is a GODDESS)



Once I got him in the other field, I watched to make sure he couldn’t get back into the yard.  As I was bellowing to him to behave, a unknown force knocked me straight into the fence.  My heart dropped into my stomach as I realized there was a donkey in the field with me, one I had assumed (big mistake) was settled off a ways.  I quickly looked back to assess the situation and saw a ram rearing back for his second blow.  There was no time to react, and I was smashed again.  The only thing worse than getting a huge bruise on your hip is getting one right on top of the one you got 2.3 seconds ago.

I scaled that fence in no time flat, and through panicked sobs, limped towards the house calling the other dogs, who decided since the ringleader was gone, I was top dog again.  I shut them both inside and grabbed my phone (Note to self – always carry your phone when initially responding to shrieks, barks, and squeals).



Bad Boy in the background, tender soul in the fore.



Looking for the pigs, I found them happily grazing on the delights in the yard: pork salad (aka pokeweed), grass, lamb’s quarters, etc. They looked so peaceful after their ordeal while I was still shaken and breathing hard.  I called my husband to ask how soon he’d be home to help get the pigs back.  When he answered the phone, he heard, “Hussslake…hasassa….aahagduglaaaa….” to which he replied, “Slow down! I can’t understand a word you’re saying!”  So, I did the only thing I could at that point; I hung up.

I tried to figure out what to do, and felt relief that things felt calm and the pigs weren’t charging at me.  The (bad) dog was intently watching from the other side of the fence, and my husband called back to see if this time I’d speak something closer to English.  He offered to take care of getting the pigs back when he returned after coaching, but I said no.

Which brings us to the enlightening part (at least for me).

I could certainly head inside, tend to my wounds, and feel sorry for myself while cursing the dogs, but I decided not to do that.  Panicked me thought the pigs would surely try to dart out of the yard at the first possible chance, but something told me not to worry.  The peacefulness of this now-panic free situation inspired me.  As the pigs grazed happily, I headed to the barn to find materials to fix the fence: mallet, pliers, and wire.  I got a bucket of corn, and returned to the pigs, giving them some bits of a treat I’d use to lure them back into their enclosure after my work was done.  I stopped by the rams to give them a piece of my mind, and realized their orneriness is due to, well, the fact that it’s fall, and they’re rams, and the ewes are out of reach.  Haven’t I learned this lesson before, like as in last fall?  Ugh…just glad it was me and not the kids.

As I worked on the fence, I felt drawn to being in the moment despite the fact that half an hour earlier I only knew my afternoon to be time carved out to finish an assignment.  Time is an interesting dimension.  Sometimes, when we’re waiting for something we long for, it seems to take forever.  Other times, when we’re in a panic to get away from danger, it seems like there’s never enough of it.  And when we can just be, it doesn’t even matter.  As I worked on the repair, heart-rate and breathing finally steady again, the pigs explored; nothing to panic about. The only time I had was the moment.  And when things were fixed and they could go back in, they did, no questions asked.  A little more corn sweetened the deal.




So cooperative...just ask nicely and they respond.

 

Life has interesting ways of teaching us that it’s all ok.  We’ll get where we need to go, maybe not in the way we intended, but when we stop to see what’s of interest along the route we learn a few things.  Who would know that pigs gone AWOL could bring me such tranquility and trust in the universe on what turned out to be a peaceful afternoon despite the craziness that preceded it.   Dwelling on the bad without listening for the whisper of what’s good get us nowhere.

Thank you, life. 

And now for that lamb burger...