Who let the pigs out? Who? Who? Who?

We went to one of the local county fairs last weekend, in hopes of creating warm fuzzy memories of Addy meeting pigs, cows and goats for the first time. We would then celebrate those memories with copious amounts of food that either came on a stick or emerged from a bath of oil.

Everything was going according to plan, as I like it to. Addy saw loud squawking chickens, ducks and turkeys; fuzzy sheep and bunnies; goats frantically trying eat anything; the bizarreness that is llamas and huge, boney-butted cows. I kept waiting for squeals of delight from my daughter, but she instead quietly soaked it all in.

Our last stop was the pig barn, and as we walked in, I noticed all the pigs were sleeping. “What?” I thought. “Where is the oinking? The snorting? The pigginess I want my daughter to see?”

But then I spotted him. The one pig that was awake and doing piggish things. There was a young boy in his pen, cleaning things up. I was struck by the sense of responsibility this kid already had. We arrived at the pen just as the boy was walking out. And that’s when I knew we would be leaving with a story. Because that pig ran for it.

He busted out of the pen like it was a cop car, blowing past the kid and heading straight for Joey. I leapt back, clutching Addy, who now, finally, was squealing with happiness, as Joey fought off the pig with her stroller.

Now, not only am I envisioning this pig running into the fair grounds and surrounding suburbs, I’m also noting that its snout juice is smeared all over Addy’s diaper bag. I hear myself say, out loud, in the midst of total mayhem, “Oooh. We’re gonna have to clean that.”

In the most James-Bond way possible, Joey shoots the stroller my way, now deflecting the pig with his butt. I grab the stroller and, of course, the camera. “My blog! My blog!”

A shot taken as the drama begins

The young boy being praised for his hard work, still clutching his magic pig wand.

After the excitement dies down, we head outside to remove the glistening pools of pig snot from Addy’s stroller and my husband.

The aftermath. Both boy and pig are unfazed.

We decided the best way to conclude the experience was with a foot-long corn dog on a stick.

This, People, is why I love the fair.

A quiet walk back to the car  

P.S. My officemate, Cheri, once said, “Pigs are smarter than people.” I guess she was right, even if what she really meant to say was “Pigs are smarter than dogs.” Sometimes there is so much truth in our verbal missteps.

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