I named my Yorkshire pig, Wilbur. I'm sure you can guess why, but my pig was "SOME PIG" too. I played with Wilbur all spring and into summer. I learned how to train him to turn right or left. I doused him in baby powder to make him smell good and look all pretty and white. Yes, Wilbur and I became the best of friends...until the fair.
In 4-H, we were taught how to take care of the animal, how much to feed and water, how to clean the animal, what to use for their bedding, how to clean their pens, and we learned how to use the hog whip to tap the hindquarters to guide our animal around the arena...FOR SHOW...I thought.
I told you that I was naive back in the day and this story is no different. I thought I was going to take Wilbur to the fair and show him, get judged on how well I trained him and if he was too fat or too skinny. I was planning to win a ribbon, cash that ribbon in and take Wilbur home...THAT was my plan.
Saturday night of the fair came, the showing of the pigs...and the SALE of the pigs. When I came to realize that I had to take Wilbur out into that arena to sell, I was devastated. I started crying and didn't want to send him away to be BUTCHERED!!!!! How could I change the way this was going to end? The realization set in that I had no say in how this night was going to end other than to go out there, show my beloved Wilbur and hope that nobody wanted him...that was now my plan.
"NUMBER 483" the auctioneer shouted through the microphone. Here we went, Wilbur and I. Head hung low, tap-tap-tap on Wilbur's hip, round and round we went it seemed, but I actually only went around once and Glen Hamm bought Wilbur. Oh, how I loved Glen and Louise Hamm. They owned the Skelley gas station we always went to so I was going to go tell Glen how well behaved Wilbur was and ask if I could come over and visit him sometime. After taking Wilbur out of the auction ring and back to his pen, I found Glen and went up and asked him if I could come over and see Wilbur after he got him all settled in. He saw the tears in my eyes and told me he was sure sorry, but he and Louise were planning to send him to Polar Pantries...which was our local meat locker. He put his arm around me and told me he was sorry and knew that some of us kids got so attached to our animals. He gave me my check for $387.00 and told me to keep my head up that this was a great learning experience and someday I would make one fine pig farmer. I left there with my check in hand and ran to Wilbur, crawled in the pen with him, threw my arms around him and told him how sorry I was. We sat there talking to one another until it was time for him to go. Watching that semi back up to the pig barn was sickening. I really wanted to vomit. It was one of the most awful moments of my life...and I'm being honest. I haven't had too much grief in my life, but sending that precious little pig off to be slaughtered just about did me in.
Wilbur...he really was TERRIFIC.
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