Ms. Piggie has arrived. She is short, squat, and has bent feet because her legs can’t support her weight. If you follow politics at all, she would be the Barbara Mikulski of the barnyard. If she were royalty, she would be Queen Victoria, circa 1900. She wheezes when she walks. If she were on TV, she’d be Florida Evans. And to Bacon, at least, she is Dynamite!
She came to the house in a wheel barrel, filled with zucchini, beets, and nasty brown water. But like any bumpy chariot, the ride was short-lived. Ms. Piggie baled, jumping to the ground, deciding, if for a moment, to walk among the ‘people.’ Eventually she stopped walking. It was a struggle to get her to move. Bob Evans did his best from the other side of the fence, barking commands and encouragement like a middle school gym teacher. Her squeals are still talked about by the llamas today.
Once inside the fence, she had some dinner and calmed down. I walked out later to check on her and close up the barn; she was sleeping in the dog house next door to Bacon, who was snuggled up in his own little house. (Yes, we have side-by-side “His-and-Hers” dog houses for the pigs in the barn – in a configuration similar to Ricky and Lucy’s double bed paradise on television.) It was cute.
This morning, we all had cantaloupe, and then explored the flooded barnyard. Right now, Bacon and Ms. Piggie are rolling around in the mud together, noses touching. I don’t know if I should go out there and chaperone them. I guess they’re old enough to make their own decisions. And Bacon is fixed, so there’s no chance of little piglets. Love is in the Orchard House air!
The baby robins have left their nest. The alpaca are happily installed in their new pasture. The baby lambs are frolicking. We may be flooded, but the sun is shining and the grass is green. Ms. Piggie may be living with Bacon now, but she can’t stop humming Bein’ Green in her mind. Never fear Ms. P, we have tons of frogs in the duck pond.