Years ago, my stepfather raised hogs. My mother hated them. They would get out of the lot and root up the yard and everywhere else.

One evening she had gone to the barn to milk the cow, and the hogs were eating some corn in the path to the barn. On her way back to the house with the bucket full of milk, one of the dogs bit one of the hogs on the behind and the hog ran toward my mother from behind and ran right between her legs. She was now riding the hog backwards. Suddenly the hog ran out from under her, and left my mother lying on the ground with a spilt bucket of milk. She was very upset, but we all had a good laugh.

Lorna Scott, Todd, a member of Blue Ridge Electric