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Monday, August 9, 2010

George Kinney - Pig Story

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Here's Texas Psych Legend, George Kinney, Pig Story. This all played out last week:

Okay, here's the pig story.

Last Christmas I bought Nancy the cutest little 5 lb. pig you ever saw. She saw it on the side of the road at a pick-up truck sale and had to have it. So, I plopped out $50 and we took her home. She was indeed a very cute animal. Sadie Lou, our 3/4 Great Pyrenees, 1/4 Border Collie wonder dog, took her to raise and the pig was raised thinking she was definitely a dog. Whenever the dogs ran to the fence to harass the dogs next door, Pork Chop was right there
there with them. She also raced up and down the fence when any vehicles drove by. Pork Chop slept on Sadie Lou, literally.

All went well for about a month. Then we noticed a curious thing...Pork Chop was already nearly as big as Sadie Lou, about 80 lbs.

The pig was growing at an exponential rate. She was way too heavy to sleep onSadie Lou anymore and so she took up residence in a mud wallow she constructedin the front yard. I had to fence her out of the yard soon, though, because she tore up the yard, flower beds, and even the rock sidewalks. Years of labor and money on my part, all destroyed before our very eyes by the living, breathing bull dozer we called Pork Chop.

I began to plan for her demise. Nancy loved her, though, and you can imagine the dilemma I was facing. I knew, however, that with patience I would eventually accomplish my task of riding our land and lives of the destruction machine. Besides all the damage, she was eating us out of house and home. I knew that at some point, she would destroy something that pissed Nancy off enough to, if not approve, at least turn a blind eye to the expulsion of the pig from our premises.

That event occurred while I was on my mini-tour of the east coast last month. Pork Chop completely destroyed the glass table on our back deck, shattering the 1/2 " glass and bending the metal legs beyond repair.

So, the end game was finally afoot.

I called around and discovered that if I could deliver the pig to the meat market in a little town near our home, I could leave her there and come back in 2 weeks and pick up lots and lots of pork chops, ribs, bacon, sausage, and smoked hams, for the sum of $250 for the entire process.

Fine. I would do it while Nancy was at work. I enlisted my neighbor, Tommy Too-Tuff Dipple to help me...that is, supply beer moral courage, and a tractor.

All looked fine until last Wednesday morning when we realized we hadn't seen the pig for two days. Nancy called me from her cell phone on her way to work and asked me to look for Pork Chop. I looked everywhere to no avail. Then I looked under the back deck and there was Pork Chop, lying still and apparently not breathing. This was a huge problem. I determined that the pig was dead and reported this to Nancy, who cried profusely and couldn't talk about it on the

I told her I would take care of everything before she got home. I had to dispose of the dead pig quickly due to the intense heat (101). But the animal was 30 feet under the deck and now weighed about 350 pounds. Way too heavy for me to deal with unassisted. So I called in Tommy Too-Tuff and my son in law, Wayne. Wayne is young and strong and took off work to come and help attach chains to the pig so we could drag it out with Tommy's tractor.

Wayne arrived and took the chain under the deck and began attaching it too the hind legs of the dead pig.

However, the reports of the death of the pig were premature, as the pig jumped up and started bawling and grunting.

Wayne jumped up and banged his head against the underside of the deck, nearly knocking himself unconscious and began yelling: "The pig is alive, the pig is alive!"

Both Pork Chop and Wayne crawled out from under the deck at record speed, and Wayne dressed his head wound and went back to work.

Tommy and I polished off a couple of Modelo Especials and decided to deal with the now living menace immediately. He lassoed the pig and the pig drug him around my land for a few thrilling minutes before slipping out of the rope. Pigs are built to be lassoed. So we decided to let the pig alone for a while and leave feed in the horse trailer in hopes that the pig would enter the trailer
for the feed, at which time I would close the door and trap the pig in the trailer.

The next day, Thursday, bright an early, I discovered that Pork Chop had indeed gone into the trailer and was feeding happily on the corn therein. I quickly and quietly approached the trailer and closed the door, safely securing the pig inside.

I called Too-Tuff and within minutes, we were off to market with the pig in the trailer. All was well for nearly ten minutes, but about a mile from my property, I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the pig leap out of the trailer through an opening that the grand kids had forgotten to close when they had played in the trailer last weekend. I never used that door and had not properly checked it to make sure it was locked. Anyway, the pig was out on the side of the road with absolutely no intention of re-entering the trailer.

We tried to herd the pig back to my house with sticks and rocks. What a sight, me an' Tommy Too-Tuff running down the road herding the pig in our customary summer uniforms of kaki shorts and cowboy boots with hats and T-shirts. The pig, however, was reluctant to obey and finally dove into the underbrush on the side of the road and headed for parts unknown. I followed and for 45 minutes I experienced one of the most grueling episodes I had ever had the misfortune to go through. The brush was treacherous and thick with briars and brambles, thick
cedar and mesquite thorns. I was cut from head to toe. When Tommy found me I had cornered the pig in a cross fence not far from a gravel road that led to another neighbors property. He took one look and wanted to take me to the emergency room.

In the meantime, the neighbor upon whose land we had trespassed appeared and offered to help capture the pig. Pork Chop immediately responded to his offer by butting him into a nearby cactus patch, causing him to receive hundreds of cactus spikes all over his body. We tried to pull them out, but to little avail. While Tommy guarded the pig, I walked the neighbor to his house and tried again to pull out the most sever cactus spikes. We drank another beer and decided that it would be best if he were to just wait for his wife to get home from work to continue his treatment.

I returned to the scene of the pig capturing attempt and made the decision as to what had to be done. I asked Too-Tuff to get my pistol from the truck. I had had enough. I knew the only answer was to kill the pig then and there and then deal with getting it in the truck to take to the the slaughter house.. He brought me my .40 cal Berretta and I dispatched the pig with a shot to the forehead and another to the temple.

Tommy walked to his house and brought the tractor with which we harnessed the pig and raised it up by its hind legs. I cut the jugular vein and let the pig bleed sufficiently to guarantee good meat flavor and we lowered Pork Chop into the pickup truck and headed for the meat market.

When we arrived went in and the lady behind the counter stared at me with astonishment.

She said:' I thought you were gonna bring in the pig, but it looks like the pig brought you in!"

I was standing there bleeding on her floor (which,of course, was already bloody...it was a meat market) and I told her that the pig had jumped out of the trailer and that I had to shoot it.

Her response made the perfect signature to a totally absurd morning. She matter-of factly stated without a hint of excitement or emotion: "Oh yeah, hon, when they jump out of the truck, you gotta shoot 'em"

Too-Tuff finally broke. He succumbed to a burst of laughter that could be heard all over Bastrop County and blurted out, that's the goddamned truth, you gotta' shoot 'em.

That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

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