Pig would prefer perspiring to peg leg

Published 4:50 am Thursday, August 10, 2006

By Staff
"If hell's any hotter!" I thought about the 4-H kids and their animals at the county fair last week. And while I whined about not sitting on my porch, they were sweating it out in the barns!
I recall people (when I was a kid) saying, "It's so hot, I'm sweating like a pig."
I'm not sure what that really means because pigs don't sweat – it must mean that it's hot as hell (oh dear; now I'm back to mending my ways!).
Anyway, I'm sure everyone at the fair was sweating like pigs!
Pigs. You gotta love those little porkers. Pigs don't always get treated fairly. One time they are cute. Then we call someone a dirty little pig.
We buy ornaments of pigs one moment and then call someone a chauvinist pig the next.
We talk about "pigging out" at a buffet dinner and sigh about hog heaven.
When referring to something that will probably never happen, my friend, Leon, says, "That will happen when pigs fly!"
Well, I'm back on my front porch – it's cooler now – and I recall one of my favorite stories – rather a groaner, but I find it amusing and I like to tell it to friends sitting on my porch.
A traveling salesman (okay -sales person!) drove past a neatly maintained farm at least once a week and always admired its beauty.
One spring he noticed a pig in a pen by the driveway.
As the weeks went by, he noticed something unusual about the pig – it had a wooden leg.
Curious about a pig with a wooden leg, the salesman/person stopped to chat with the farmer.
"Well," said the farmer, "that pig is most unusual and very valuable!" Two years ago it was rooting in the cornfield and BINGO it discovered an oil well. Since then, we've found even more oil on our farm. I'm now a millionaire several times over."
"That's wonderful," said the man/person, "but why the wooden leg?"
The farmer puffed out his chest, nearly unsnapping the hooks of his bib overalls.
"Last spring that pig was rooting around in the apple orchard and discovered that we have truffles growing there. I now have a lucrative and exclusive contract with 10 restaurants in Paris to supply them with truffles. Again, I'm a millionaire several times over."
"Incredible!" exclaimed the one who earned his living by selling things. "But why the wooden leg?"
Tears welled up in the farmer's eyes and flowed down his weathered cheeks. "This winter that pig saved our lives! Our house caught on fire in the middle of the night, the pig broke down the front door, ran up the stairs and woke me, saving my life and the lives of my wife and children."
The man/person/ seller of things was caught up in the farmer's emotion.
Wiping a tear and blowing his nose, he said, "I'm amazed! What a wonderful pig! But you still haven't told me why that pig has a wooden leg."
"Isn't it obvious? A pig that brave and valuable, you don't eat all at once!"
Go on and groan. This little pig didn't go to market – not all at once, that is. This little pig stayed home. Perhaps as a little piglet he was the one who went "wee, wee, wee." And the man/person/one who sells things went happily on his way.