A coming of age story I enjoyed when I was coming of age.
Well, that was then, and this is now:
This pig did not get to enjoy a gut-busting corn-fest, like some of his ilk, before he died.
He may have died from a hunter's bullet.
Or disease.
Or old age.
Or in mortal combat with another pig.
But I suspect he died from a broken heart.
His uncouth ways and nasty temperament were too much of a hindrance to him pursuing the one true love in his life. The true love who's sophistication and appreciation for the finer things in life could have really made a difference in his own. He could have been sniffing for truffles, as it were, instead of wallowing around in his own shit; if he could have somehow been something he was not.
You, dear reader, know her as well as I.
