The Pig

It was a cold and muddy day as Gertrude lay smiling. Just the kind of weather that she adored. She could splash around for hours in the glop and guzzle up all her shlopp when it was time. Oh how she loved the sound of the hog-call. It would signal that special time of day for her when she could literally pig-out! Her delicate pink skin did not tan too well, always needing a good coating of oils, hence the perfection in the weather described. Her trotters, she thought, were possibly her best feature – could they be called dainty? Unlike her large snout that she sometimes wished could have been more discreet-looking. She valued her large ears because they were indeed an asset, especially close to supper time and her eyes, well, they were the eyes of an intelligent creature, somewhat underestimated by Man, simply because of the sweet tasting tantalising suppleness of the flesh of the animal. What to do thought Gertrude, but eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, while you still could eat, at least. Because one day – every pig knew as all pigs know – we would all see the blade descend on us and then splat!