​Another day, another pigtastrophe. It's about time we had a pig roast...if you know what I mean.

It's a quarter past eleven at night and I'm just now coming in from the yard where my hus...I mean, the IDP and I ran wire around the unfinished sections of the perimeter fence to contain the pigs.​ I came home a little past nine this evening to find three of the little porkers halfway down the driveway and the other two rounding the neighbor's house on the way to their front yard. Yes, the pigs have escaped again, and my premonitions of zombie pigs terrorizing the neighborhood were suddenly realized.

IDP wanted to shoot them, and he might have followed through with the threat if we had enough freezer space, which we decidedly do not. ​I can't say I blame him...while I was gone today, he spend several hours luring them back to their pen with the promise of tasty treats. Unfortunately for us, the smell of freshly cut grass in the lawnmower man...I mean, our next door neighbor's yard...was too much of a temptation. In a brilliant flash of genius, the IDP decided to mow our yard, hoping to at least keep the pigs grazing at home. It was a good idea, but it didn't work. It would seem even pigs think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.

I'm beginning to wish we'd stuck to chickens and ducks. And I would wager a guess I'm not the only one.​

Until the next time...I'll be preparing for the next jail break.​

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