PET PIGS

Dad never owned a pig, except once.

When I was near 6 or 7, Dad brought home a baby porker and I promptly named my new "pet" Bobby.

Bobby was placed in a pen on the back side of our place and daily fed his "slop" until he became a fine specimen of porcine pulchritude.

Best I remember, Bobby was my first of only two pets in my life, the other being my faithful dog, Rin Tin Tin.

One night we were eating one of Mom's delicious meals which consisted of a pork concoction. I chose that opportune time to inquire as to where my pet, Bobby, was as I hadn't seen him in a day or two.

Dad matter of factly told me we were eating Bobby. I stress "were eating" as I didn't finish that meal and likely shied from pork for a day or two.

Simple moral to this story: Don't name a pig folks plan to eat!