I will get that pig if it’s the last thing I do. And he knows it. He knows it because I’ve told him. And I told him in a way he is sure to have understood.

Yesterday was Pig Day. It’s a joyous occasion, most notably marked by the departure of any and all porcine residents of the farm. Where they’re bound for, I’ll tell you if you really want to know. But some of you don’t, so let’s just say they were going to spend some time with relatives. It’s only a slight departure from the whole truth.

The pigs needed to be delivered between ten and noon, so I was up and out early enough that I could leave by 9:30 and arrive promptly at 10:00. Oh yes, I had it all planned out. Fifteen minutes discussing the cuts… umm, I mean discussing the pigs’ favorite colors… and then I’d be on my way, drop the trailer at 10:45 and get back down to the fair just after noon.

Hah! Go ahead, say it with me. Hah!

The first pig loaded pretty easily. And thankfully, he was the bigger one. He would then occupy the front compartment of the livestock trailer while I rounded up his friend.

I should mention at this point that the way we do this is we back the trailer up to the pig pen and arrange things so the pigs can only go into the trailer and nowhere else. Perhaps you have already imagined that this second pig found a way to go somewhere else. He wiggled his way underneath the trailer and scrambled away, not to be caught in time to be delivered during the appointed time.

Don’t worry, though. Pig number one arrived on time. The escapee was caught while I was out. And we were only a couple hours late to the fair.

Fast forward to this morning, though I have to say that I did nothing but think about how I was going to get number two — yeah, the little shit — onto the trailer. Because if I could get him there by 8:00 this morning, he would be processed, umm, I mean he would be welcomed to visit his relatives.

So I was out there at about 6:15 and set everything up with the trailer backed up to the pen and extra fence panels placed just so and staked in with steel posts… and a water tub a bale of hay blocking the escape route that had been used yesterday — all the bases covered.

And now it’s game time. The big roundup. I’d push him along with my plywood panel, and he’d go where I wanted him to, until we got to the trailer. He’d turn and run back. I’d swear at him and go back and try it again. He’d poke at the fence to try and find a weak spot and I’d shoo him away and get him closer to the trailer. And he’d turn and run back again. This went on for, well, long enough that we were running out of time. I screamed and pushed and swore and pushed, and he nearly knocked me over when he turned and ran back this time. And then that was it, I had to call it quits. For now.

But I will get that pig. Aye, aye! And I’ll chase him round the pen, and round the pasture, and round the barn, and round perdition’s flames before I give him up. Because I will not be beaten by a pig. And after all, perdition’s flames will surely roast my friend to succulent perfection.