I Am a Pig (sometimes referred to as a Hog, a small hog)
I am a Pig. I snort, much like you like to fart.
I enjoy wallowing in the cool mud to keep the heat off my bod.
I’m told that I am one of the smartest animals in the barnyard (I can sometimes open gates with my snout or burrow under electric wires – or thru them) and it’s true that I do have a big brain (compared to that of a chicken anyway, which is likely on the other end of the animal spectrum chart).
The kids on the farm love to come down in the mornings and “slop the hogs” and bust ripe pumpkins over my head. They think it’s funny and that I enjoy it. <not – headache>
Still, even though I am smart, I know that look in the human’s eyes as he is coming to kill me.
They slaughter me and chop me up into my basic pieces-parts: pork-chops, fatback, bacon, sausage, snout, pig’s feet – all the good parts of my body that make me what I am. “Everything but the squeal, they say.” (I make good ‘mustard based pork BBQ too.)
But it’s okay. I’ve come to accept my fate over time. After-all, where can I run? Where can I go? What kind of job could I get as a full-blown, over-weight farm beast in this condition that I’ve allowed myself to become?
There is some sort of solace in knowing that with every bite, the humans are clogging up their own internal digestive & heart bloodstreams. Good luck with that non-Kosher diet thing.
Maybe someday the pig will lay down with the horse and there will be peace on earth?