We woke up this morning to the dogs making an awful ruckus in the front yard. Tom jumped out of bed and looked out the window exclaiming, "A piglet!"
Now, it's one thing if the dogs go off and catch themselves a piglet in the woods...and kill it...and eat it. Whatever. It's an entirely different matter altogether if they are killing it in our yard, right in front of me. I just can't let that happen. It's a baby. I know it grows up to be big, mean, ugly, and destructive. But, right now...it's a baby. And I can't take the cruelty of it all. And the squealing. Oh, the squealing.
So, yes, I threw on some shorts, grabbed the camera, some gloves and a towel and ran out there. I intended to take pics of the dogs trying to get the pig, but I had taken the battery out of my camera to charge. Bummer. Anyway, I made Harry put it down and I threw my towel over it and snatched it up.
I stuck it in a dog kennel for lack of a better idea. It's a feisty little thing. In the picture above, it is in the process of ramming the sides of the cage. I've seen an adult feral hog do that and it's pretty scary.
Still trying to find a way out.
I've given it some things to eat - tomatoes that were about to go bad, a piece of grilled chicken (what?! I don't know what piglets eat!), and some applesauce. I put that bottle of water up there, but wasn't sure if it had figured out how to drink from it, so later I put a big bowl of water in there. It charges at me whenever I open the door, so I have to be careful about that. It charged me when I set the water bowl in there and got a face full of water.
I don't know what we're going to do with it. "Fatten it up and eat it" is what we're being told. Tom is just rolling his eyes at me for saving it. Sorry. It's what I do.