No More Rootin' for Seymour

Me and the first wife, we bought ourselves a little piglet. We brought it back to our place. We put the piglet in a horse stall.

We went up to the house and left a little time for the pig to hang out and make hisself comfortable.

Ya know

We went up to the house. Had dinner and whatever else what we was gonna do or have. When I came back to the horse stall in the barn, the piglet he was gone.

Where in hell is the little pig? The pig's gone. Where's the little sumbuck?

MISSING PIG

Now there was a golf course not far from where we lived. I had this fear that eventually the pig was gonna find a place to live over at the golf curse.

Some day, some millionaire would be out playing the match of his life with thousands of dollars riding on every single putt. Then out of nowhere would come this outlaw seven hundred pound pig snortin' slabberin', runnin' and fartin' his way on to the green, grab the ball, ruin the round, scare the beejezuz out of everbody. Cause a coronary. Lose a bet

"Who owns that pig?' the millionaire screams to his lawyer who holds up my glossy. "Sue his ass for everything." The millionaire sneers. His lawyer nods.

I had that catstrophic fear oh yeah.

We looked all over the pasture for the pig. No find.

A few hours passed. I got a call from a woman from her farm up the road apiece.

"Did you lose a pig?" she asked. 

"Yes Ma'am I did."

She says "Well we've had a pig in our garage for a couple of hours."

I said, "sounds like my pig. I'll come and get ham."

"Come and get ham huh, that's a good one." she said before hangin up.

I came up and grabbed the little pig; brought him back to my barn.

I couldn't understand the problem.

If you know anything about pigs, you know how he got out.

What do pigs do all the time? Huh? They dig. Right. They root. This little pig had been doin' that and had rooted a route for hisself right out  the horse stall and out of the barn, up the read apiece to the woman's garage.

The first wife and me, well we didn't want that to happen again so we called a farmer from across the road. We asked Farmer John "how do you prevent pigs from diggin?"  Farmer John say "you got a put rings in they nose. The rings make they nose sensitive. They root with they nose. If they got the rings through they nose, they don't root no more."

So OK says the first wife and me. Let's put rings through the pigs nose. Sure how do we do dat, I asked Farmer John.

Call da vet. Tell him to come over. He'll put rings through the pig's nose no problem.

I called the vet. He busy but he gonna send a ringman to do the job.

The vet's ringman shows up in a wink.. Ringman say "go get the pig". I went and grabbed the pig. Holdin' the pig in my hands I say "whddya want me to do right here and right now/"

Ringman say "You want rings through that pigs nose right? OK , just hold on to that pig."

So I'm holding on to the pig. I'm no farmer. I'm no Ringman. I ain't even down the road nor across the road. I don't know what I'm doin. I'm just a guy in my long driveway who thinks he knows what he wants and he's holdin' on to a piglet who has a pretty good idea what he don't want.

Ringman comes up. He's got like this pliers with a brass ring on one tip. I'm holdin' on to the pig. Ringman walks up, confident as all hell and goes WONK and smacks that plier thing right in the pigs snout. The pig starts goin WHOOO WHOOO WHOOOO. The pig be squealing, struggling squirming, spinnin' me and itself around and WHOOO WHOOOING.

Like passing the brass ring dispenser on the Searbreeze merry go round, the ring man being the dispenser, the dispenser grabbing for me stead of me grabbin' fo it. Every time I'd finish a spin, the Ringman would go CRONK and hit the snout with another ring.

WHOOO spinaroundCRONKWHOOOspinaroundCRONKWHOOOOspin aroundCRONK WHOO spin around.

The Ringman is cronking. Me and the pig are spinning. The pig is WHOOOOing. I can barely hold on to the little varmint. So we CRONK and WHOOO and spin around eight or nine times. Then the ringman says "All done."

The piglet had nine shiny rings in his now tender ized snortin' snout. Me and the Ringman walked to the barn where I placed the pig back into the horse stall. I asked the Ringman what brand the rings was. "Day's Seymours....Day da best."

So if y'all evah need to stop a pig from rootin'....Get Seymour nose rings. THEY ARE THE BEST. They worked for me and my pig way back int the Spring of 77. Thos ringse went the distance.

Later that night, we named the piglet Seymour after the rings in his nose. We built him his own pen and he grew to be a two hundred pounder and quite a good drinkin buddy before we put a bag over his head one day, painted our name on his side and left him alone one afternoon next another big pig who had another name painted on his side both of them prolly thinking that this can't be good.