water and the grain, they were stunned to see him standing there, steady as a rock and looking like he owned the place. Carlton gazed entranced inside the enclosure, stared at the plastic igloos, the blankets, the feed troughs, the wallows, the waterslides, and he thought, "This looks like Heaven".
Before opening the gate, the driver of the water tanker called the pig wranglers and the crew stared with wonder at the pig who had found the sanctuary and had arrived alone, with no human escort.
The men with the pickup truck and the cage opened the gate wide and drove out to collect their new prize. To everyone's surprise, Carlton just wiggled his snout, wagged his curly tail, and trotted inside
He paused at a sign that directed visitors to the various offices. He studied it for a moment and then waddled off to the Intake office. He politely knocked on the door and, as I was on duty at the time, I told him to come right in. Although this particular Sus Scrofa Scrofa was blessed with superhuman intelligence, he did not have reversible thumbs. He bumped the door with his head a few times.
"I'm coming," I said, irritably.
What's all this, then, I asked myself once I'd opened the door.
Carlton looked up at me and, for the first time in the day, he showed anger and frustration. The vibrissae on the top of his head stood up like porcupine quills.
He grunted and clattered past me. He appears to weigh around 250 pounds. He was in good shape and looked to be about twelve years old.
"So, what is it you need to know about me?" he asked.
Patiently waiting for the next episode.
I nominate Carlton for Sec. of Defense, maybe head of the Dept. of Homeland Security. We need diversity!
QUOTA, n. : the sum of illegitimate hogs, slopping at the trough