A Red-head Named Bernice

Sometimes, when things seem most stressful, it seems that God sees fit to bring distractions into your life to remind you that you have value and importance.  I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say, our daughter has found herself in some legal woes which have put a considerable financial strain and concern on our family.  Some people can be told that A+B=C, whereas some people have to do A, take B, and be hit over the head with C.

When everything seemed so bleak, my father to top things off, thought it would be a good idea to blow up a rock next to our farrowing house 1 week before a litter of pigs was due.  He's a former SEAL who is a demolitions expert.  The rock went boom, and the piggy popped, and we had a litter of 11 premie babies born.  Three weren't done cooking, and the others were all small.  We took one piglet home to bottle feed as she was just too little, her legs were soft and bowing, and she wasn't able to compete for a nipple.  Seven, however, nursed to weaning, as their Hereford mother was insanely gentle and careful with them,  Truly amazing, hereford pigs are.

Meet Bernice.  For little more than a week, she got to wear popsicle stick leg braces because her ankles were turning in.  She was the perfect distraction for us during the court appearances, probation office meetings and constant updates from a high school counselor, who no doubt at this point, probably has prayed more for our family than most pray in their lives.  It took a tremendous amount of patience on her part, and prayers.  Lots and lots of prayers.  I believe strongly that the prayers helped.  At 10am on Graduation day, we weren't going to be attending, because our daughter was not passing... but by noon, the grades showed she would graduate.  Needless to say, we were very relieved.  Hopefully, it will give her the launching block needed once this whole thing is done to move forward in her life.

About a week after Bernice was farrowed, disaster struck.  A brand new pipe fitting that we purchased from Lowes, manufactured by Mueller Industries, had a casting defect, and cracked.  It flooded the swine barn, and as a result, the litter we were expecting with great anticipation all drowned... save one.  Little Noah.

She was beautiful.  Now, normally as farmers, we try to treat our animals as much as possible without going to a vet.  My father always says that we can kill them for free.  Vets have access to a lot of knowledge and medicine that we don't, but when your patient can't tell you what's wrong, it limits your abilities.  For five days, it was touch and go.  Bernice worked very hard to keep Noah alive.  When she'd start to fade, Bernice would nudge and nudge and pester and pester.  After some lameness and swelling in Noah's hocks, I believed her to have Strep.  Normally, we'd hit with high doses of penicillin.  But, because I was afraid to lose this pig, I took her to the vet.

Now, in the veterinarian's defense, Draxxin is a pretty awesome drug.  But, it's not what most would use to treat Strep.  Penicillin is still the go-to for it.  But, she had a little crackling in her lungs, so he treated her with Draxxin.  Sadly, she passed away about 6 hours later.  Bernice came down with swelling of the hocks as well, and we hit her heavy with penicillin on the advice of another veterinarian, and she recovered perfectly.

I wouldn't have taken her to the vet, except she was the last one.  The only one.  And I really wanted to save her.  It was a $135 lesson, and one I won't repeat.  As for Mueller Industries, they have absolutely no interest it would seem in doing anything to make it right.  I have been forced to seek remedies through other means than being nice.

My Aunt and cousin were kind enough to send Bernice more toys than I think I had when growing up.  She loves her monkey.  But, she has an uncanny knack of piling them up in the corner of her pen, and climbing out.  One morning, with eyes shut, I was groggily roused from my slumber by oinking.  I thought to myself that the oinking sounded really loud.  Then I thought that it sounded CLOSER.  I rolled over and looked down, and sure enough, there was a little red pig staring up at me.

I can't cook.  I can't clean.  I can't even use the bathroom without that little red demon pig leaping out of her pen, running down the hallway, and jiggling the door until it opens.  The cat is not pleased.  The pig thinks she's a cat.  After a trip to pick up some sheep, we came home.  We opened the door, and there sat the cat, and next to her was Bernice.  BERNICE.

And you can't punish a pig.  There's nothing to take away.  There's no way to scold them, aside from playing whackamole when they try to jump out in front of you.  We are being held hostage by a tiny porcine terrorist.  Send help!