A Funny Thing Happened while I was in Panola County

What was it!!  What about the bear in the woods? the Indians behind the Barn or the other things that happened behind the barn. Maybe it was a special day or family visiting.

Got a story to tell of Panola County in the Years gone by.............Let's all hear it!!!!!!!!!!   Submit to Gloria B.

From: vmichaels@webtv.net (Victoria Michaels)

HECTOR THE PIG

My sister Brenda was eight and I was seven and we were spending the entire summer at my Aunt Eva's farm in Joaquin TX. We were really excited. It was the longest time we had ever been away from home. Even the 100 degree TX heat couldn't get us down. We loved our Aunt Eva dearly and especially her homemade berry pies. She had only had one child of her own (who was now grown up) so she loved to spoil us rotten. She had always visited us in Dallas but now we were visiting her on a real farm. We were dying to see some animals.

Aunt Eva had only one--a big fat humungous pig named Hector. She was raising the pig to be turned into bacon, ham, and pork chops. After we found out about this, we really felt sorry for Hector. We tried to cheer him up, but how do you cheer up a pig?  We had to take Hector leftovers after meals and put them in his trough. We liked to stay and watch him eat because he was so gross. We would sit on a big smooth tree stump by his pigpen and watch him grunt, snort, and slobber. It was disgusting. We loved it.

We tried feeding him some long grass, then some clover. Food seemed to be the only thing that Hector was interested in. We pulled a few long green beans out of the garden and stuck them through the wires of his pigpen. They were gone in a flash. We tried to pet Hector, but he went wild and tried to attack us. What a pig.

After that we used to sit on the stump whenever we were bored and feed things to Hector. Sometimes we shared our snacks with him. I gave him a grape jelly bisquit and some chocolate cake. My sister fed him peanut butter sandwiches. I asked her if she thought Hector would like a piece of ham.

"Don't remind him," she answered.

"Oh yeah," I said. "Anyway, it would be cannibalism."

I felt a little guilty. It didn't seem right. Just a short time ago this ham had been another Hector. And I had eaten it. Was I a cannibal?

"You dummy," Brenda said. "You're not a cannibal for eating ham."

"But don't you think that since we're all mammals that we shouldn't eat each other?" I asked.

"No way, you idiot," she sneered. "I'm not part pig, but you may be." "No," I challenged her seriously. "I mean it. I mean, our puppy is really like a person. He knows how we feel and everything. Maybe pigs are like that too."

"I never thought of it that way," she said.

"Do you think Hector will feel any pain when they...you know...." I asked.

"No, they probably put them to sleep first."

"Do you think Hector is scared to die?" I asked her . She always had all the right answers. She was so smart. She looked at Hector sadly.

"Nah," she finally said. "Pigs don't think about things like that."

I persisted. I was feeling really badly for Hector and I needed to know. So I asked, "Well then, what do pigs think about?"

"Food," she said. I laughed. I knew she was right about that. We threw Hector a fresh garden brussel sprout and he caught it in midair. That's how we invented Pig Basketball. We would play it with him all day long. It was a really fun game and I thought it cheered Hector up. I still didn't entirely believe Brenda, but couldn't tell if Hector knew the terrible truth.

On really hot days, we fed Hector ice cream cones and purple popsicles. He grew fatter every day. He got so friendly that he would let us scratch his ears or rub his nose while he pigged out on our treats. On the last day of summer vacation we sat miserably on our stump staring
at Hector. "Do you think he knows?" I whispered.

"Nah," Brenda said. "Pigs don't think."

I sat in the grass by his pen and held up some clover. He waddled over and began to crunch. I stared straight into his sad little eyes as I gently rubbed his soft nose through the wires. "Bye, Hector," I said. "I'm really, really sorry." I leaned over and kissed him.

My sister screeched, "Oh gross, you kissed a pig!"

Hector squealed wildly and went barreling to the other side of the pen. But I didn't care if she told everyone that I had kissed a pig. I was glad I had said goodbye to Hector.