So without further ado, and no excuses except wine/sun/campo living, please find a poetical rendition of this morning's meeting with a stray pig who lives on an allotment somewhere in the campo.
Hello Senor Boar
“Hello,” said the boar, as he trotted before
The dog as they met on the road.
“I live here you know, with the veg, by the hoe
But I’ve come for a late morning stroll.”
“Oh,” said the hound as he sniffed the boar round
“I live here as well, just up there.”
And they stood quite still and peered up the hill
To the house, proud and white on the tor.
“So long,” said the hound and galloped on down
To his mistress and brother canine.
(His brother you see, was pulling for three
But prevented from acts by the leash)
“Drop by anytime, it’ll all be just fine,
We’re fenced in, you’ll not feel his teeth.”
And with friendship in place, they turned about face
And went off their own separate ways.
It was not long before a massive uproar
Could be heard from the house on the hill.
On closer inspection, the cause of infraction
Was deemed as arrival of pig.
He rootled around and snuffled the ground
In search of some goodies to eat.
Whilst one dog went mad, the other was glad
That his friend had come over to play.
As pictures were taken, pig remained quite unshaken
And continued to look for some grub.
His black and white bristles were raised as missiles
Of cabbage rained down all around.
But ignore them he did as he looked for what hid
Under rubbish cast down on the ground;
And with snort and a grunt, he continued his hunt
‘long the track as he trotted back home.