The Spanish Pig.

On a warm summer night in Madrid, the sound of pig was everywhere. Not the squeals and snorts you were expecting, the swishing and swallowing of people consuming pig with every course. The Spaniards are not shy about their love of pork. All pork. And not from head to toe, from ear to toe. Every delectable morsel. Especially the baby pigs. The succulent sucklings. The sweetest, most tender meat, ever to almost

not exist. To look at them could be frightening. They were smooth and shiny skinned babies; but this was mostly a tourist's problem, never a Spaniards. Pigs have been on the butchering table in Spain for centuries. Long enough for their fate to be woven into their knowledge of existence. Yet they still fought it. Especially the sucklings. Too young understand their fate per se, they nonetheless sensed when was coming more than any adult pig ever did. They knew when death was coming, just from the sound of the approaching footsteps. They were heavier than usual, because of the knife in the farmer's hand. Thats how in tune sucklings were with their last moments. Too slow to run andtoo immature to figure out a plan however, they succumbed to the blade every time.Until Herve. Herve the suckling pig, who fooled them all and lived longer than any pig ever lived in Spain. This is his story...