We talked about the weather, the terrible fire in Arizona, the awful drought down here, our dogs, life in New Mexico, books that we've recently read and Belle Starr-Simons. So after we adios-ed each other I signed a copy of my first book that I wrote, to her friends Willy and Stef, because they recently lost Froggy, their beloved Boston Terrier, because I know the terrible loss of losing a best friend, because Yoda, my Boston Terrier, was my best friend.
Then I got a mailer, from my office and put my book for Cindy to give to them, in hopes that it would comfort them because Yoda's story is in it and then I slipped in my last copy of The Art Of Racing In The Rain for Cindy to read. And that's when literally speaking—Time Stood Still for me at exactly 11:14, as I sealed the envelope fixin' to travel all of the way to New Mexico.
I was sick about my time standing still, because my beloved, cheap, pink watch, that only cost me $10.00—literally died or should I say, "Her time had run out on this planet." So, I shot her.
Then T. walked inside the trailer and I told him my sad news about Pinky's untimely death and I was so relieved that he took my news so well and didn't laugh. Then he picked up poor Pinky, for old times sake, and examined her closely and then he operated on her to look for any clues as to how to replace my priceless Made In China timekeeper's battery.
And guess what? After T. completed Pinky's ten-seconds autopsy he said, "Throw it in the trash, Nance," because he discovered that her fate had been tightly sealed, because he could not open up the battery compartment and the only other way to get to her "377 Battery" inside was by using a hammer.
"No, Tony! Put the hammer down. I'll take Pinky to the store where I purchased her to see if their Watch Department can replace the battery," I said, as T.'s stomach growled fiercely at me. Then I grabbed a baggie and stuffed Pinky inside it and put her into my purse.
"I'm starving, Nance.
"I know. I heard all about it. Listen, I need to go to Kerrville to mail Cindy's package and to pick up a few groceries, so let's call Carol and see if she can meet us there for lunch?"
At straight-up one o'clock T. and I arrived at The Water Street Cafe on Water Street and two minutes later our good friend Carol arrived and we had the best time laughing and catching up with each others news as we ate our delicious lunch.
After lunch I mailed Cindy's "care package" and then we went to H-E-B to grab some groceries and then Trigger took us home.
Around five-thirty Tony walked inside the trailer and told me some truly sad news, "Little Ricky has just died. He was next to Rambam's "International House of Pigs" (pig house). He hasn't been dead for long. He ate good this morning and he was drinking water too. I guess he just died from old age, Nance."
Little Ricky, was one of our smallest Pot-Bellied pigs. He was a sweet, little fella and we know that he had to have been at least twelve-years-old and he had arthritis. "Oh, Tony. Bless his heart. He was a great pig. You want me to help you bury him?"
"No. I'll go over to the Lodge and ask Will to come help me bury him." Thirty minutes later Little Ricky was laid to rest next to Porky—thanks to Will and Tony.
Tonight, in loving memory of our Little Ricky, I am going to watch that sweet movie, Babe. Below is a picture that I took of Little Ricky in 2003.
Rest In Peace, Little Ricky. We love you and we will never forget you. You were one fine pig.
Y'all have a great evening!
1 comment:
Oh Little Ricky! I am sorry to hear of his passing, I know he will be missed.
F.
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