Over the past 14 years, our house had been home to various dogs and cats, a tame rabbit, a wild rabbit, hermit crabs, some kind of rodent, a flying squirrel, a secret project involving spiders, a baby deer, orphaned calves, and a few wild hogs. When I hear the words, "Momma, come see what we caught!" I never know what to expect. Sometimes I'm scared to ask.
This afternoon, I was enjoying a peaceful house when I heard the call, "Momma, you want to come look?" I know there are puppies that I haven't seen yet, so I hoped for puppies. But no. It was a hog. Not a baby pig. A young hog. Caught this morning in a trap set in an uncle's field and wrestled out of said trap to bring home and turn loose in a former dog pen turned hog pen. Before I went to see today's catch, I was shown a stab wound to the leg. Seems Baby Jus let a knife slip while trying to cut the hog loose and stabbed Big Boy in the calf. What's a good hog story without a scar to show? Right?
The last time he brought a pig home, it had to be bottle fed. It was cute and cuddly. Well, as cuddly as a pig can be. And it grew and grew. But we all had fallen for that cute cuddly baby, and we loved that big ugly pig. Today's pig was neither cute nor cuddly. He was mean. And I was happy to hear, "Bryan's coming to get him."
And he has. I wonder if Bryan walks in the house saying, "Momma, you want to come look?"