When nothing goes right... go left.

Have you ever had that fleeting thought, when everything was going exactly how it was planned, that it's too good to be true?  And then, as fast as the thought entered your mind, it all goes to pot?

I've had a few moments like that this week.  Between breeding pigs, planned trips gone awry, and Grandma spending several luxurious nights in a resort called Greenbrier Valley Medical Center, I managed to scold myself for getting cocky, and thinking that for one second, just one second, things were going to go as planned.

A quote often attributed to Woody Allen goes something like, "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans."  I really think that I've kept God in stitches this week, so much that his side is hurting, and that's probably contributing to the large amount of rain we've been having.  Sorry, all you hay farmers.  My bad.  I just hope they're tears of laughter, and not the other moisture often attributed to extreme hilarity.

With regards to the pigs, since this is a  piggy blog, not all is going well.  Diesel, that hunka gorgeous Hampshire boar that is visiting, has been doing very well.  He's really quite the stud.  And just, just when we think all is well, Porkchop develops a limp.  We check her out, and sure enough, she's got a bad infection on one of her hocks.  The culprit?  A piece of old metal fencing that she managed to kick up that we did not know was there.  Puss, naturally, was an indicator that all was not well, and a temperature of 104.something because I can't see that well, resulted in a good dose of LA200, followed with plenty of Blu-Kote. 

What's worse, Dr. Farnum says that there's a good chance that Porkchop won't take, because of the stress and fever of the injury, and we're going to have to likely breed her next go around.  I guess, in the grand scheme of things, that's not terrible, since that will give us early February pigs, but just disappointing.  I wanted to have all my piglets at the same time.  The whole having your cake and eating it too, I guess I was being greedy.

And Tiffany ordered semen for Lucy, but won't let us tell anyone who the daddy is until they're born.  It's her decision, but it's very Maury to me.  What are we going to do?  Sit the boar down in front of a live studio audience, dramatically open the envelope and say, "Cottonwood.... You are NOT the father!"  Gasps from the pigs in the seats, Lucy starts squealing and crying, and Cottonwood storms off the stage in a fit of anger.  Hussy. 

 

 

And in other piggy news, this will be the last week that Rootin' Tootin' will be with us.  Rootin' Tootin' is the product of Porkchop and Big League.  He started off very promising, winning first in his class at the County Fair, but missed weight by just a few pounds at State, and did not get the opportunity to show there.  It was very disappointing, and he was retained as Tiffany and Levi's shared Ham Bacon pig.  

 

 

 

He's probably one of the sweetest pigs we've ever known.  Of course, everyone we've talked to says barrows are like that.  A friend of mine told me that she used to tell her children when the pigs were being castrated that they were taking the 'meanness' out of them.  Clever.  I had a typing teacher in Middle School that I'd have liked to take the meanness out of, but pretty sure she lacked the equipment to perform the same surgical procedure... of course, I could be wrong.

 





 

 

For all you piggy fans, cross your fingers that Porkchop took, and that Lucy will take when bred tomorrow.  And, if she doesn't take, cross your fingers that the Chop heals up enough to try again in 21 days.