Page 39 - Life's Outtakes 8

We set up the ramp into the pickup, and, when my
father moved into position to help me load the pig, I
said, “It’s okay, Dad, I can do it.”

He smiled and left me to accomplish what I
thought would be an easy job. I was, after all, twelve
years old and an expert cow herder. How different
could it be for a pig — especially just one?

I got behind the pig and started shooing him
toward the ramp. He paid no attention to me, so I gave
his rump a swat. He took off toward the ramp and then
ran a circle around me.

I tried again. I got behind him and moved slowly
toward him. He again moved toward the ramp, but as
before, at the last minute he turned. He attempted to
run around me, but I was ready this time. I jumped in
his path, yelling and waving my arms. He plowed
through me like wasn’t even there.

I picked myself up and brushed the hoofprints
from my clothes. I was mad now. Again I moved him
toward the ramp and once more he turned. But I didn’t
plan to let him plow me over. I threw myself at him.
But 100 pounds does not fare too well against 500. I
was like a small compact car in the path of a freight

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