Wild Wild Hogs!

Here a while back, brief but fierce storm passed though our area bringing lightening, thunder, hail, wind and rain.It was the kind of day when you think that nothing in the world could make you leave the comfort of a cozy fire burning in the wood stove.

With a glowing fire cracking in the next room, I had just settled down in the office to do some paper work when the phone rang. I can't explain it, but I personally find phones a major waste of time. I shutter when mine rings. The caller I.D. said it was a friend and neighbor from down the road a little way. I sighed heavily because I knew I would be hooked into a long conversation that I didn't want to participate in.

I gingerly pushed the talk button but even before I could say hello I heard Kathy's voice shouting "He's Gone! In this storm! He's Gone! I don't know how he got out, but he's gone!"
When I calmed her down a bit, Kathy was able to tell me that her beloved little pet pot bellied pig "Rooter" had somehow escaped from his stall during the storm.

Referring to the place where Rooter lives as a stall it's a bit like down-playing the Taj mahal . He has an automatic watering bowl (warmed I might add. ) His plush habitat is lined with cushy rubber mats that feel more like a down filled mattress. He sleeps in a raised bed with foam mattress and a hand sewn quilt comforter. There is also a light hanging in his palace that comes on at 6am and goes off at 8pm. His high-end piggy condo is also rigged with an automatic feeder that dispensed a handful of food every 4 hours like clockwork. He also has access to a large pen in the outside world via an automatic door that opens both from the inside and out. In order to activate the door, he merely has to step on the door mat, and wallah!

This pampered pig gets brushed two times a day and a bath every other day, weather permitting. After his bath he is dried off with a towel and a blow drier and is fed a half of a banana, a slice of apple and 1 mini-marshmallow (his favorite.) I would be remiss if I failed to mention he also has classic music piped into his suite. Soft soothing compositions by Johann Strauss , Frederic Chopin, and Johannes Brahms (his favorite being Brahms) float lazily into his day dreams. Why this spoiled little ham hock would wander off is beyond my comprehension. I'd happily trade places with him any time.

Unless the preceding paragraphs haven't made it completely clear, let me put it another way; Kathy adores the little porker. When her frantic call came I knew I'd soon be trudging through the soggy countryside looking for the spoiled little ham-hock!

So,before long with a strong wind blowing rain sideways and stinging my face I tromped up and down, back and forth though the woods calling "Rooter, Here Rooter." Kathy's calls echoed a few feet away. After an hour and a half we had not seen any trace of him so we decided to dry off a bit and briefly regroup. During the regrouping session, Kathy reminded me that the last time he had run off he'd gone "up the hill."

The "hill" that Kathy was referring to is actually a mountain that is every bit as steep and torturous as Mt. Kilimanjaro. Maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration, but seriously it is steep and torturous. At the top there is a small lake and camp ground, which normal people reach via
the road and in a vehicle. We, however would have to climb on foot so as not to overlook the little pork chop.

It was getting dark, so we grabbed flash lights and were about to start our climb when my husband, Bruce, showed up. He had gotten off work and found my note telling him where I'd be. He reluctantly volunteered to join in on the hunt. (Actually I pleaded.)

We spread out about 20 feet apart and started slowly making our way up the "hill." Each of us shouting loudly into the encompassing darkness "Rooter! Rooter! Rooter!" Nothing. No piggy.

We eventually made our way to the top where we checked in with the park host and told him to be on the look out for a tiny black pot bellied pig named Rooter.

The park host took pity on us and drove us down the hill and dropped us off at Kathy's house. A quick check of the stall and grounds reveled no signs of the pig. We hugged Kathy and came home to dry off and eat dinner.

About 2am the phone jolted Bruce and I bolt upright in bed. I stumbled for the phone dislodging unknown objects as I picked it up. Kathy's piercing screech blew the sleep out of my ears with "The cops are going to shoot Rooter! come quick!" then the line went dead.

I relayed the message to Bruce who really did not want to participate in any game in the middle of the night, but he begrudgingly hoisted himself out of bed. We quickly dressed, jumped in the truck and sped to Kathy's home.

She was standing in her driveway holding a flashlight. Bruce opened the truck door and started to get out, but before he could, Kathy jumped in and said "They have Rooter cornered at the campground. Some stupid camper made a 911 call saying there was a WILD HOG trashing the campground and terrorizing everyone." She sobbed "They said they are trying to SHOOT him!"

We drove at lightening speed to the campground where sure enough there was a crowd of people cowering behind a county sheriffs vehicle...among them, I might add, was the sheriff. The vehicle had both the driver's door and the passenger side door open. I've seen this tactic used on cop shows. They use the doors as a shields against bullets. I have no idea how they thought the impenetrable doors would protect them from a pig so tiny that it could to walk under the door, but there they were.

We came in so quickly and stopped so abruptly that it caused every one to spin toward us. Kathy jumped from the truck with a banana in each hand and ran frantically toward the mob. Apparently in the darkness, the Sheriff thought she was holding a gun in each hand because he spun and pointed his gun at her and shouted "Drop the weapons..Do it NOW!"

Bruce who had just reached into the bed of the pickup truck and retrieved Rooters carrying case went slack jawed and let the carrier fall nosily to the ground. Everyone in the crowd took in a collective gasp and backed away from our truck.

While all this was going on I was reaching under the front seat for a bigger flashlight. I have no idea what the Sheriff or the crowd of frightened campers thought was going on, but suddenly everyone seemed to perceive us as a bigger threat than a wild hog on the rampage.

Kathy looked uncomprehendingly at the sheriff and kept moving in the direction she perceived Rooter to be in. The sheriff spun first toward her, then toward Bruce, then as I popped my head up from the front seat of the truck he spun back toward me. I was so very confused. Bruce was so very confused. The poor Sheriff was very confused. Kathy, on the other hand, was totally oblivious to anything but rescuing Rooter.

The sheriff spun back toward Kathy and shouted "I said Drop It NOW!"

Fearing Kathy was about to be shot I shouted "Kathy STOP! DROP YOUR BANANAS! The Sheriff thinks the bananas are weapons..STOP!

The crowds heads were rapidly flipping back and forth like someone watching a tennis match in fast forward. First they focused on Kathy, then the pig, then the sheriff, then on me, then on Bruce. Their heads flitted everywhere.

Finally Kathy stopped and the Sheriff was able to shine his light directly on the bananas Kathy was clutching and he relaxed . "They are for the Pig" I shouted. "The Bananas are for the PIG!"

The sheriff shone his light into my face and said "Lady step away from the truck...you too sir" (meaning Bruce.) Then he added "I don't know what you people think you are doing here, but we apparently have a wild boar terrorizing this campground. It's not safe."

I couldn't help it...I burst out laughing and said "Rooter? Wild? Terrorizing? He's a PET!"

Suddenly Kathy spotted Rooter cowering under one of the campers vehicles and she called "Rooter, Here Rooter... Come.. Bananas" Recognizing her voice he let out a pathetic sequel and as she bent down he rushed into her arms nearly knocking her over.

Quietly Bruce walked over with the carrier and opened it. Rooter grunted softly and walked calmly in.

Kathy apologized for the commotion. The Sheriff said he'd have to file a report, but then he thought about it for awhile and apparently decided how foolish he might look, so he waved us off and told us to drive carefully home.