the end of an era--tammy the pig

it’s truly—the end of an era.  today I whispered a soft prayer to myself, kneeling in a busted, rusted, jalopy of a trailer—shades of rust and blue.  entire sections of metal peeling apart—I kneeled with a bucket of slop perched in between my legs, tilting it forward with quiet hands.  in front of me, just over a foot away, was tammy—our herd’s matriarch.   a living legend.  the mother of my own first pig, and the grandmother to so many in our herd.  our mascot.  and as a farm, and as a business, the cost of carrying a mascot, no matter how loveable or timeless, had become a giant money pit.

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