if you've known me for longer than five minutes, you know that i have a near adulterous love affair with bacon.
i love me some pork.
when i was little, i didn't eat much meat (read:any) with the exception of pork.
more specifically, bacon.
i would eat bacon all day, every day if i could.
it also didn't help that my dad raised pigs every year to slaughter and eat.
not only are pigs tasty, they're cute too.
in a smelly, foul sort of way.
we probably had a dozen pigs growing up, all of which i named (ham and bone, bacon and egg, pork and chop, simon (he was a loner...dad usually got pigs in pairs, but he was all by himself. why i named him simon of all things, i don't know) and my personal favorite, porthos, athos and charlie sheen (because neither of us could remember the name of the third musketeer))
there was one pig in particular that i will never forget:
dad decided we were only going to get one pig that year.
when he brought him home, i couldn't believe it: he was the scrawniest pig i'd ever seen.
most of the pig pen fence was wire, but on one side it was wood slat.
"he isn't going to be able to fit through those slots, is he dad?"
"no, he's too big for that."
"are you sure?"
no sooner had i said that when i spotted that scrawny little runt squeeze through the slotted fence and run, squealing towards the woods back behind our house.
dad looked at me.
"well, shit." and took off running, me panting after him.
[[let me just take a second to say how FREAKING HILARIOUS it was to watch a grown man sprinting at full speed after this piglet that couldn't have weighed more than 15 pounds. and the pig was winning. i about died laughing.]]
so there's dad and this pig, running flat out for about a quarter of a mile, when suddenly the pig began to zig zag. and then weave back and forth. and finally turned a complete 180 and started running towards us.
and then, just as suddenly as this whole charade started, the pig flopped over on its side like it had a heart attack, legs sticking straight up in the air.
i thought to myself, 'great - we've exercised it to death.'
dad skidded to a stop in front of him, bent down and then burst out laughing.
the pig wasn't dead - he was exhausted. he may as well have been holding a white flag in his hoove because he? had. given. up.
by the time i got to them (having collapsed in a fit of laughter about halfway there) they were both spread eagle on the ground, gasping for breath.
"so, he's too big to fit through the slots, eh?"
((i don't really remember what he said to me, but it included a lot of eye rolling and sighing.))
that was the pig i named simon.
he was one of the funniest animals we'd ever had.
dad particularly liked him, almost not wanting to slaughter him when it came time.
simon would sprint in circles around his pen every time dad came out the back door.
and dad would walk straight to the pig pen, grab a big rake and scratch Simon's back with it. it was both ridiculous and really awesome.
i can add this to the ever-growing list of things that will never be the same.
i'll never have another set of pigs to name (and if you even THINK about mentioning i could get some of my own, I WILL SLAP YOU.)
i'll never get to troop out to the pig pen to watch dad show off his latest.
on the upside, i'll never have to smell THAT SMELL whenever i go to the house.
or hear the words, 'i need your help outside for a minute.' (which meant 5 HOURS OF BACK BREAKING, CHILD ENSLAVEMENT.)
even so - i'm going to miss these things.
and i miss him.