(1) Ignominy:(ig-no-min-y) Noun, a state of dishonor, public shame, disgrace, embarrassed
(2) Three fingers of Brandy and some branch water; 3 ounces of brandy and some tonic water
I hate it when I know a word but I can’t quite remember how to pronounce or spell it. Drives me to drinking but of course I already nip the adult beverage usually consisting of three fingers of brandy and some branch water around 9:00 PM every night. It's a nightcap or what we called a toddy in the southern nomenclature. I will let you know about the word later in this blog if I can call it to mind and verify if there is such a word.
I haven’t blogged this month because I have been involved in preparing for and taking my Masonic Esoteric Ritual Exams. Sounds impressive but it’s just a lot of memorized stuff you have to regurgitate eloquently and correctly. By the way, I flunked the exam. At my age I am lucky to remember anything. I did alright but got confused and left some things out and added some more. I ended up lost and went down in a burning heap of rubble. Oh Well! I have better things to worry about. But it Really, Reallypisses me off to be honest. Just being myself, cantankerous!
My niece called me from North Florida this week and said her son had brought home an orphaned feral piglet that she was nursing with a baby bottle.The picture of the pig with the baby bottle is my niece's new piglet She wanted me to tell her the story about another pig in our long line of adopted animals. So! This is the story of Pig Moore.
Once upon a time in another lifetime, I was a young man with a wife and small children (two girls). I was an avid hunter and an accomplished one as was my hunting partner and brother, Gene. He and I were bow hunting on Tyndall Air Force Base in Panama City Florida. I chanced upon large black hog or what we called “A Piney Wood Rooter” (Pine forest, hogs root around in the dirt looking for their food) Get It?
I made a successful stalk and pierced her with an arrow in tall brush or what we called titi bushes or basically just bramble. She let out a squeal and ran a short distance. Upon approaching her I saw she had small pigs. Nope! That is another story. My brother and I went back every day that week until we caught all those pigs and raised them all too substantial hogs but they all escaped and the police caught them. We couldn’t claim them because we had them penned at my mother’s place and that was in the city limits The police department probably had one heck of a good barbecue.
The picture of me with the two hogs hanging were typical of our hunts. My brother and I had a funny competition in that we didn't shoot large hogs. Instead we hunted the good eating ones. What was funny is that we agreed we would not shoot a hog unless it was shot behind the left ear. I literally let hundreds of pounds of pork walk pass me and would then follow them until I could shoot the one I wanted and it had to be shot behind the left ear. It was an unspoken agreement between us and a personal joke that caused us to smirk inwardly between each other.
I have killed more hogs and caught more pigs than I can remember. Pig Moore was just another pig that I caught and it sort of went into shock. It was lifeless and practically dead but I brought it home anyway. I left it in the garage in a cardboard box hoping it would recover (come around) but it didn’t. My young daughter was worried and kept going to the garage to check on its revival(survival). Now my daughter, Dawn, was a preschooler with blond pony tails (two as I recall). I felt that pang of adult empathy and I really didn’t want to give a pig eulogy so I brought it in. I laid down with the little thing on the living room floor and coddled it up snugly and began oinking or grunting to the little piglet. I sort of did everything I knew to bring this pig back from the brink to the attentive supervision of my daughter who knelt in front of me watching every move.
All of a sudden the pig revived and began trying to suckle my armpit so we gave it some milk and arranged for a baby bottle and nipple to feed it to the applause of my giggly daughter. Our family now had an adoptive pig that we nick named Pig Moore. Gosh I don’t even remember what sex it was but we have pictures of my daughter walking around oinking to this pig and it following her like a new puppy. I could not find that picture but the pig with the cat is Pig Moore. The cat also survived my daughter's scrutiny. She decided it needed a bath so she dropped it in the washer and told her Mama she was washing the cat. My wife found the kitten bobbing in the wash cycle and rescued it before the rinse and spin cycle. That particular cat had several lives for sure.
My children had all sorts of wild critters. They once had a fawn that we named “Lost”. Their father(me) and their uncle Gene collected quite a repertoire of wild things from raccoons to alligators and there is a story in every one of them. It's a shame, my brother is gone now and there seems to be no one to tell them to. I sigh!
I miss my brother so much that tears weld up in my eyes as I write. I was blessed to have known him and shared our world. My children are also blessed to have experienced him and a more naive and innocent childhood than what we see today. They are the richer for it and I am so thankful.
I called my first wife and asked her what happened to that pig. I am of an age and I couldn’t remember and besides there were just too many pigs to differentiate amongst. She could not recall it's deposition either. I assure every one that we didn’t eat it, being it was a pet. Pigs grow into hogs and who wants a 100 pound hog around the house? I remember giving one pig away to a neighbor when we lived at Sandy Creek but that wasn’t Pig Moore. the little grey pig in the picture is a total mystery, God! I was about 21 in that picture. I can vaguely remember releasing a pig in a forested area close to my brother’s home. I vaguely recall building a pen at my sister's house and putting Pig Moore there. My sister lived in what was then the country but it's a shopping center now. I think that pig was Pig Moore and escaped and distributed its DNA throughout Highland Park, Florida.
In most states there is an abundance of feral hogs and I suppose Pig Moore’s DNA is amongst those around Northwest Florida. Oh! The word I was looking for is ignominable but that is my estranged version. The dictionary defines ignominy, ignominious, and ignominiously but not ignominable so I guess I made the word up. My spell check is red lining it so it must be true.
That was to be my title, The Ignominable Pig Moore! Sounded pretty good to me.