File #1003: "Mosaic_Spring2008_23.jpg"
Description
finally out the back. She was scared to peer through the screen door and spoil the surprise. On the edge of the back porch, a lone cardboard box sat amid the wasteland of tools, supplies, and farm equipment. Her father wasn't easy to see, so Isabel continued to stare at the foreign box just in time to see it twitch and hear a faint series of grunts and coos. Her mouth opened and a faintly audible gasp escaped. She rushed to the box.
Before she could examine the contents, her father ap- peared from behind a workbench. "Their momma passed away too early and laid down on the rest. These are the only two left. Do you want to take care of them, Isabel?"
With eyes as wide and deep as an ocean and high trill of a voice she answered, "Oh yes, Daddy! More than anything. Can I name them?"
"Sure, if you want."
With loving fondness, Isabel glutted her eyes on the smooth pink skin, even with the small dirt patches, round pug noses, and coiled little tales. She loved these piglets at first sight. One of the piglets vocalized more while the other lay sleeping peacefully.
"That one is Oink, and that one is is Sleepy," Isa- bel then nodded her head once with a firmness that stated her mind was made up and could not waver.
"That sound good," her father replied.
Throughout the evening, instructions were given to Isabel about proper piglet care from bottle-feeding to washing to clean- ing out their pen. Enthusiastically, she listened and took every- thing in. Isabel was going to be the best foster parent in the state. Over dinner, she could barely sit long enough to eat without checking on Sleepy and Oink. At bed, she continued talking about what fun they would have together. She would feed them, wash them, dress them, carry them, walk them, and push them in her baby carriage. Indeed, she would and did.
Over the next year and a half and through Isabel's diligent care, Oink and Sleepy grew from tiny hungry piglets to fat, strong, and glorious pigs. They moved from the box to a lone- some pen to a large sty where they were finally strong enough to mingle with the other pigs. Each day before and after school, Isabel visited them, even when they finally moved to the large sty on the hill that made them hard to locate amongst the other beasts. However, Isabel always knew which two were hers, and they knew her as well. When she came to the fence sur- rounding the sty and called, though slowly, Oink and Sleepy would come to receive their daily ear rub. As she rubbed them, cooed at them, and talked to them, a sense of pride enveloped her. She had nurtured the forsaken, watched them grow strong, and go on to live happy pig lives. Her duty was entirely successful.
Even when the weather turned cold, Isabel, clad in her pink jacket and blue jeans, walked the gravel trail past the barns and to the sty to visit her foster children. However, one cold, foggy day in February, Oink was not in the sty. She looked and looked, but couldn't find him. With her heart racing and trepida- tion filling her soul, Isabel ran as fast as her small legs could take her back to the skeletal farmhouse.
Daddy and Momma were sitting in the den watching tele- vision when he stormed through the door panting, "hhh. hhh... Where's Oink?”
Her parents exchanged glances and looked hack at Isabel without a word.
With as much sternness as a seven year old can muster, she repeated. "Where's Oink? I can't find him.'
"Now, Isabel. You know why we keep pigs don't you?” her father replied.
With a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes and horror invading her heart, Isabel remembered the sausage breakfast she ate that morning and screamed, "No!"
They tried to consol her, but for the rest of the night, Isabel's only word was "why?"
Before she could examine the contents, her father ap- peared from behind a workbench. "Their momma passed away too early and laid down on the rest. These are the only two left. Do you want to take care of them, Isabel?"
With eyes as wide and deep as an ocean and high trill of a voice she answered, "Oh yes, Daddy! More than anything. Can I name them?"
"Sure, if you want."
With loving fondness, Isabel glutted her eyes on the smooth pink skin, even with the small dirt patches, round pug noses, and coiled little tales. She loved these piglets at first sight. One of the piglets vocalized more while the other lay sleeping peacefully.
"That one is Oink, and that one is is Sleepy," Isa- bel then nodded her head once with a firmness that stated her mind was made up and could not waver.
"That sound good," her father replied.
Throughout the evening, instructions were given to Isabel about proper piglet care from bottle-feeding to washing to clean- ing out their pen. Enthusiastically, she listened and took every- thing in. Isabel was going to be the best foster parent in the state. Over dinner, she could barely sit long enough to eat without checking on Sleepy and Oink. At bed, she continued talking about what fun they would have together. She would feed them, wash them, dress them, carry them, walk them, and push them in her baby carriage. Indeed, she would and did.
Over the next year and a half and through Isabel's diligent care, Oink and Sleepy grew from tiny hungry piglets to fat, strong, and glorious pigs. They moved from the box to a lone- some pen to a large sty where they were finally strong enough to mingle with the other pigs. Each day before and after school, Isabel visited them, even when they finally moved to the large sty on the hill that made them hard to locate amongst the other beasts. However, Isabel always knew which two were hers, and they knew her as well. When she came to the fence sur- rounding the sty and called, though slowly, Oink and Sleepy would come to receive their daily ear rub. As she rubbed them, cooed at them, and talked to them, a sense of pride enveloped her. She had nurtured the forsaken, watched them grow strong, and go on to live happy pig lives. Her duty was entirely successful.
Even when the weather turned cold, Isabel, clad in her pink jacket and blue jeans, walked the gravel trail past the barns and to the sty to visit her foster children. However, one cold, foggy day in February, Oink was not in the sty. She looked and looked, but couldn't find him. With her heart racing and trepida- tion filling her soul, Isabel ran as fast as her small legs could take her back to the skeletal farmhouse.
Daddy and Momma were sitting in the den watching tele- vision when he stormed through the door panting, "hhh. hhh... Where's Oink?”
Her parents exchanged glances and looked hack at Isabel without a word.
With as much sternness as a seven year old can muster, she repeated. "Where's Oink? I can't find him.'
"Now, Isabel. You know why we keep pigs don't you?” her father replied.
With a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes and horror invading her heart, Isabel remembered the sausage breakfast she ate that morning and screamed, "No!"
They tried to consol her, but for the rest of the night, Isabel's only word was "why?"