“You smell that?”                                “I don’t know WHAT you’re talking about.”

Ugh.  It’s been one of those days.

I awoke at 4am to an overpowering smell of skunk.  “NO, no, no, no, nah no!” my brain was screaming. “Too late,” my nose was saying.

Now, if you’ve never smelled skunk close up, than you’re lucky.  It smells nothing like the skunk smell you are used to when you pass a dead one on the road.  No, this is an acrid smell that permeates every crack and crevice of your being.

I ran to the back door and opened it enough to stick my nose out.  “Sh*******t!” I yelled out into the darkness.  I flipped on the light and there was my oldest Aussie sitting in the driveway – skunkified. I threw her a treat, told her I was sorry and closed the door.  There was no way I was venturing out in the pitch black, not knowing if that skunk was still around.

The heavy skunk smell was still lingering at 8am when I walked to the barn to feed the pigs. Fortunately, the dog was no worse for the wear and only had a faint odor.  The pigs were up and waiting for their feed.  I glanced into the pen.  One pig.  Two pig. Three… uh oh.  “How the hell could I be missing a pig?” I said to Muscles and Lonely Guy.  I whirled around, my eyes darting all over the barn.  “How the HELL could I be missing a pig!?!” I asked the dogs.  I spun around again and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Itchy.  She had climbed into the feed trough, squeezed her way through the wooden divider and into the neighboring feed trough.  And there she was, with no way to go forward or backward or turn around.  Every curse word known to man spewed out of my mouth as she contently munched away on leftover goat feed.

“Great, friggin’ great,” I mumbled to the dogs, but they just tilted their heads at me and trotted off to terrorize the cats.  They didn’t care that I was home alone and had a 150lb pig stuck in a feed trough.

I stood there, staring at her for several minutes, trying to concoct a pig rescue plan in my head.

Attempt #1 – grab her head and push her backwards through the opening  {nope}

Attempt #2 – grab her back legs and drag her  {uh uh}

Attempt #3 – get in the trough and shove her backwards with my feet and legs  {not a good idea}

Attempt #4 – put a lead around her and try to turn her around {stupid}

Attempt #5 – hobble her front legs, stand her up and spin her around {really, really bad idea}

Frustrated, I threw myself up against the wall and slid to the ground and sat there in a pile of sweat, pig poop and dirt.  I was so aggravated, tears streamed down my cheeks.  “Fine!  You wanna be an a**hole, go right ahead. You stupid ^&@$%!@!!%< #!* pig,” I screamed.

Attempt #6 – dump a pile of feed behind her and slap her on the ass {BINGO!}

Somehow, she spun her body around in that tight space and was now facing the right direction.  I hopped back into the trough and pushed her forward as hard as I could through the opening and into the other trough, where she stood until she finished all the feed and then hopped down into the pen.

Exhausted, I sat outside on the bench, trying to bring my blood pressure down.  All the struggling had caused my socks to fall down inside my boots and bunch up at my toes.  Irritated as all get-out, I pulled them up and walked to the house – I needed a shower.  Half way across the lawn, my socks were falling down again.  I stomped down the driveway muttering, “D*mn pigs, D*mn everything, D*MN SOCKS!”

I bent down to pull them up again and noticed little chunks of black plastic all over the ground. Perplexed, I stood there holding the pieces trying to figure out where they came from.  And then I saw the damage – the youngest Aussie had chewed the corners off of the front and back mudflaps on my SUV.

I kicked off my boot in frustration, expecting it to skid along the driveway.  Unfortunately, my bunched up sock slowed down the velocity of the boot and skewed the trajectory, causing it to fly up and over to the left – smack dab into the outside light.  The bulb shattered and threw tiny shards of glass everywhere.  In a total meltdown, I drug the vacuum outside and cried and cleaned and cleaned and cried.

I need to win the lottery.