I had a feeling it was a bad idea, but blundered on regardless. After all, Molly needed a good seeing to and I needed to make sure we had pigs ready to go to the butcher next spring. She was off to see the boar.
There had been a snag - quite a bit one. Garry's boar Boss's back legs had gone and he was off to the great pigsty in the sky. Gaz has shipped in a replacement, but he's less than a year old and the L-plates are still on, not to mention the fact he's a bit of a shortarse.
Still, we decided to give it a go - what could possibly go wrong?
Molly harumphed and grumped her way down to the ferry, drawing alarmed looks from tourists in the queue as my girl whiled away a few minutes banging at the walls of the trailer.
Later that evening I received a call from a weary-sounding Garry. Molly had arrived no problem. She'd gone into a paddock with the young boar and two other females. She picked a fight with the boar and then beat the living snot out of the two females.
Garry got her out into a paddock of her own, but she quickly broke out and waded in for round two. Somehow Garry broke things up again and doubled up the electric wire which seemed to do the trick.
So, Molly's over there on an extended holiday, enjoying the lovely views of Scapa Flow, Hoy and Graemsay from Garry's place and it looks very much like a wasted trip.
What she doesn't know is I have the wolf-pig lined up to put her in her place. That'll teach her.