Have you ever tried running full speed, bent over at thewaist, while extending your arms? It is not easy, and I am sure it mademe look like an even bigger nerd than I am. I was quickly deciding that the pig was not as slow as I had first anticipated.I would hear my 5-year-old daughter laughing and saying, "Daddy, youlook funny runny all bent over like that!" Maybe this is why I couldn'tcatch Prudence. We ran through the forest, dove past the mud holes, tangled and wrestledin the ivy, darted around the storage house this pig knew every avenuethe yard had to offer. Theweight of the syringe would have surely pulled the whole thing loose fromthe pig, but now there was nothing to weight the end of the needle. Just before we hit the heavy vegetation, the syringe felloff of the needle leaving only one and a half inches of stainless hypodermicneedle embedded deep in the muscle of her neck. Off she went, heading for the cover of the forest and mud with me hoton her trail. As bad luck would have it, the needle had gone in far enoughthat the entire syringe and needle were still in the pig. The moment the needle went throughher skin, she turned into the fastest moving animal I had ever seen! Infact, her reaction time startled me so much that I let go of the syringeand needle. I decided that the timewas right to gently slip the first injection in her neck muscle. She grunted and oinked as wescratched those "hard-to-reach" places. We petted her for a while andheard all the stories the lady had gathered over the years of having a pigin the backyard. "Prudence, come here baby," and the pig hopped out of the mudand came waddling toward the three of us. Sure enough,the lady gave a sweet sounding yodel. This pig was so fat that I figured I could outrunher, or maybe just turn her over on her back like a turtle. I figured she would come for a belly scratching, but what was she goingto do when I stuck an 18-gauge needle in her neck? How was I going to holdonto a slick, muddy hog that could probably make more noise than a 747?I wasn't too worried. "She just loves people andwill come when I call her." "Is she hard to catch?" was the first thing out of my mouthas I pondered how I was going to give three shots to a free-roaming pig. She was framed in ivy that was growingaround the trees. She was sunning in a mud hole next to the forestthat crept along the back fence. As I stood there absorbing the surroundings,my eyes fell on Prudence. I had to stop for a minute and think how wonderfulit must have been to live in this yard. We entered through the house and the hog owner took us to the pig paradiseshe called a backyard. It was my last call of the day and I broughtalong my 5-year-old daughter. My mission was to vaccinate the critter for all those "bad pig diseases"that might sneak into the yard. There wasa muddy wallow, soft soil to root in, shade, plenty of food and all theattention a pig could ask for. That's right, one large pig called this paradise home. ![]() ![]() There were trees and vines and ivy and shrubs and bushes and fountainsand-a potbellied pig.
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