One of the neighbors out here has at least one pig. I think it's meant to be a pet, although I'm not certain. This morning, looking out Lisa's father's living room sliding-glass door, I saw the pig making its slow way across his lawn. Now one doesn't want to mess around with pigs. They are large and can be aggressive. However, I also know Lisa doesn't like the neighbors' animals, be they dogs or pigs, wandering into her father's property, because it sets a bad precedent. So I made my careful way out onto the porch, prepared to retreat should the pig prove to be more boar-like than piggy.
"Shoo!" I called, and the pig looked startled and jumped a bit. "Git!" I yelled, and waved at him. He turned and trotted away a few steps. I slowly walked toward him. "Come on, go home, pig! This isn't your yard!"
Slowly -- that pig is so fat I don't see it doing anything quickly -- he trotted toward the road, with me keeping pace behind him. If I stopped, he stopped. Once he went through a hole in the hedge and out onto the road, I decided my work was done and went back inside. I do wish I'd remembered to take a picture of this incident, however.