Swimming with the hogs

One of our parishioners told us a story on Sunday I thought you'd enjoy.
She was swimming in Fresh Creek, right in front of her home, when she heard something behind her. She turned and there was a hog, swimming along with the current, coming right at her.
She made a bee line for the shore and, beating the hog, ran into the house and called her husband.

By that point the hog had reached shore and had walked into their back yard. When it started rooting around in her flower beds she didn't know what to do. It was then that the wild dogs (known here at potcakes), who had been chasing the hog, also reached shore. Around and around the backyard they went until the hog dove back into the creek and headed back to the shore the chase had started on.

I should explain for the Bostonians reading this that Fresh Creek is not fresh, but salt water flowing in and out with the tides with a very strong current. It is just about as wide as the Merrimack River and wild hogs here pretty much never leave the bush, much less enter someones back yard.

Suffice it to say, when the hog (with dogs paddling in hot persuit), finally reached the distant shore, her husband arrived to chase the hog away. Together they watched the chase continue on the other side of the creek as the exhausted dogs gave up and porky won his freedom.

She told me the next time she was going swimming she was going to look both ways before jumping into the creek.