Serving Order

I fed the pigs out of order this morning.

Normally I feed Mama Pig first, mainly because I like her better than her a-hole children and because she is closer to the bin. But I had other things on my mind today and so I filled up the feeder pigs' bucket first and took it outside (they get fed outside on a cement pad because of their aforementioned a-holedness and the fact they have destroyed every sort of trough given to them). Mama Pig, on the other hand, has a rubber dish that she keeps cleaner and more orderly than most teenage human boys I know.

Now, every single day when I feed the feeder pigs last, they scream and scream and SCREAM about being second in line. It gets so loud in the barn when they wait that you can't hear yourself think. They throw themselves against the walls in their frantic psychosis for food. It makes me hate them and count down the days until they become bacon. Did I mention they are a-holes?

But Mama Pig took being second in line very philosophically. She followed me outside and watched me feed the others, went back inside, got her dish and brought it outside like a dog might. They she put it on the ground and just quietly looked at me and waited. There was no mistaking her intent and her message, but she wasn't about to get silly about it. She simply reminded me, in no uncertain terms, that I had forgotten something.

Dang, I like this pig.