My husband and I were driving to North Florida to go on a parents’ adventure, while our children had a fun-filled weekend with their grandparents (our parents). We decided to take a hike to break up the drive. North of Ocala and east of Jacksonville, we pulled off of the highway, took the long way around to the trail I chose and started driving down a dirt road toward Big Shoals State Park.
As we were driving in, a car passed us leaving the park on the left and on the right a squirrel was walking on the side of the road. What we thought was a squirrel turned out to be a pig. A tiny pig who we didn’t think could survive on his own.
We stopped the car and followed the feral piglet on foot. The quicker we walked, the quicker he walked. We started jogging and he began to trot. We ran, he ran.
Back into the car hopped my husband and me. We backed up down the road to get in front of the pig. He jumped off the side of the road, scurried through a ditch and into the forests’ bramble.
My husband urged him out, and he plopped into the muddy ditch as he made his way back onto the road. Wearing slip-on backless shoes, I ran after him. Quickly, I let my shoes slide off my feet, and I chased him down the dirt road.
Imagining myself of jumping on the tiny pig, I started cracking up laughing. I stopped jogging after piggy.