The Village Pig

Article excerpt

Ah, summertime in southeastern North Carolina, barefoot time, cotton picking time. Doris, our oldest, age 11, suggested that we four sisters pick cotton at Mrs. Mary Ellen's farm, save our money, and buy a pig. We would raise it and have ham for the winter.

With excitement, we walked to the farm the next morning, threw the tow sacks over our shoulders, and headed for the cotton field. The morning was cool and picking easy. After the sun rose high, the heat slowed us - but not our enthusiasm.

At the end of the day, our sheet of cotton weighed 100 pounds. We took our 50 cents home and placed it in a box and added to it each day.

Finally, we had enough money and Daddy bought our pig. We placed it in a pen that Aunt Sally had helped us build.

It was Saturday, our movie afternoon. When we returned home from the Western, our cousin told us that the pig was out and could not be found. …