Mr. Pat came back from the slaughterhouse in Smithville today with news that our three pigs weighed in at about 200 lbs. each, and were declared by the locker house personnel as being among the very finest pigs they'd ever processed, “Absolutely perfect,” according to Pat.

I should hope so.  For the past six months, whenever we'd gone out to eat, with whomever, Jerry would at meal's end ask for the largest takeout container available.  Then he would proceed to scrape everybody's leavings of anything, bread, chips, salsa, leftover butter, and cram it all into the container.

Our party knew what he was doing, but the wait people sometimes looked a little distressed, whether over the general lack of decorum, or out of pity for our own obviously desperate straights.

Regardless, I can attest that our pigs enjoyed the finest cuisine from the finest restaurants in Central Texas during their short but merry lives.

And to think their favorite of all was unbaked Sysco biscuit dough!

Enough said about pigs for a while.