festive food, anyone?

I’m used to the neighbours’ guard dogs objecting to my walking down their patch of road when I go for a walk, but this young animal seemed mighty friendly as he came to investigate when I passed the garden he was in this morning:

on the hoof...
on the hoof...

I wonder if he realises he’s probably destined to be guest of honour at the New Year meal next week.

Of course, some people prefer to buy their festive food pre-processed from the supermarket:

...or from the freezer?
...or from the freezer?

At least that poor, cold piglet will be warmer when they put him in the oven.

Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

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