So we needed the .22 today....

So...Big Poppa had to be put down today.


Strange thing about animals....they are all basically wild, I suppose, and can be completely unpredictable. When I fed him this morning - totally fine, sweet, grunting, rolled over for me to rub his fat tummy. Went out to give him water this afternoon, he greeted me, happily drank and promptly turned and attacked. Bit me, chased me, slashed with a tusk, chased some more - all while I'm screaming like a freakin' school girl. (Which in and of itself was embarrassing and an annoyance. For those of you who know me, I am in no way girlie - until, apparently, a 150lb pig is chasing me with a certain look of death in his eye. Then I scream like a freakin' 5 year old girl running in her prettiest Sunday dress away from the neighborhood bully.) Guess I made one too many bacon jokes and he just snapped. According to Jeremy, now he has to crackle and pop, pop, POP too. Sad, really. He was sweet and friendly and loved to roll over and let us rub his tummy. But now, we can't even approach the paddock without him charging the gate and frothing at the mouth and snapping. Rabies? That's what I thought at first. But then I read that male pigs can turn for no apparent reason, froth and posture. Or he could just be sick. Either way, he's ridiculously aggressive and a danger to us and the other animals now. We can't approach him to quarantine him and no vet will come out and deal with him. Neither will animal control.

I'll save you the gruesome pics of the bite marks on my leg and the tusk slash across my knee cap. Just know that it hurts like a *bologna sandwich*.

So, farewell Big Poppa. We hardly knew ye. May you run through fields of the freshest dandelions. May your mud wallows always be fresh and cool. And may your bacon be the best damn bacon we've ever had! Amen.