PENNY'S WORTH
by
Mary Gay
I wanted to get all my chores done before his arrival. Today, feeding the chickens and gathering the eggs seemed to take forever. Hurrying alongside the cow's pen, I rubbed Binkie, Bell's new calf, on the head, where a patch of soft fluff stood up. Today, they needed an extra scoop of feed. The bunnies in their hutch needed some fresh water. Out came Max from his dog house. He was ready for breakfast, too.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a truck partly hidden by a huge cloud of dust, coming up our driveway. Uncle Ben was here at last. As he pulled up beside the barn, I ran over to greet him. Standing on my tiptoes, leaning against his truck, I peeked inside . There, inside her cage, lying on the fresh, golden hay, was my new baby pig, Penny.
When we first moved to the farm, Mom had promised that if I did my part of the chores, without complaining, someday I could have my very own pet pig. The promise had been kept.
I loved Penny more every day. She had her own cozy corner in the barn. She would squeak happily, as the sunlight streamed through cracks in the old boards. When I played outside, Penny could come out of the barn. She would run around in the yard, playfully chasing the chickens.
One day, while Mom was doing the laundry, I heard her complaining. For some strange reason, some of Dad's socks kept disappearing from the laundry basket. A few days later, as I looked for more rocks to add to my collection, my eyes drifted toward the blueberry bush, next to the goldfish pond. I couldn't believe it! Underneath the bush, slightly hidden by some branches, were Dad's socks. That's why Penny had been spending more time around the clothesline. As Mom took the clothes off the line and put them into the basket, Penny must have taken Dad's socks out. With the socks in her mouth, away she trotted to the blueberry bush. Great little helper!
Last week someone was careless when closing the back door. It was left partly open. Penny thought that it was her invitation to check out the house. Once inside, she noticed a jar of grape jelly sitting on the kitchen table; however, the edge was a bit too close. SPLAT! Puddles of jelly spread all across the floor. Noises coming from the next room caught her attention. Scampering right through the purple puddles, she took off for some more excitement.
Upon entering the room, Penny noticed a cage in the corner. Quickly crossing the room, she eased up on her back legs, while leaning against the cage. All of a sudden, CRASH! As the cage fell, its spring door popped open. Birds started flapping their wings, circling the room as they celebrated their new freedom. Penny thought this was a big game of chase. Was it ever fun!
Mom had decided the best place to set her favorite plant was in the living room, next to the window. Penny, chasing the birds, lunged forward hitting the plant head first. As the flower pot soared through the air, it flipped, dumping plant and dirt on the carpet. As the pot dropped, it landed perfectly on Penny's head. Frantically, she shook her head. After finally freeing herself from the pot, she bounded up the stairs and into my room.
Inside, Penny spotted a thick, fluffy, pig-sized pillow on the bed. After working so hard rearranging the house, she felt a nap would be well deserved. She leapt onto the bed. Her feet still smeared with grape jelly, left a trail of purple prints. She collapsed onto the pillow, and it was "Dreamland" for this little pig.
Mom returned home from visiting our neighbor, Mrs. Benson. Noticing the open door, she crept inside, into the kitchen. Immediately, the "feathered flappers," who were still enjoying their freedom, buzzed around her head several times. Mom stepped around the jelly mess on the floor and followed a path of dirt, which led to the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, lying on its side, was a flowerless, dirt-less pot. Mom climbed the stairs and eased into my room. There, lying on the pillow, in the middle of the bed, lay a sleeping little snorter, named Penny.
Mom and I worked steadily for over an hour, cleaning and organizing the house. I was really surprised that Mom wasn't more upset over the disaster Penny had created. Instead, she said, "When Sleeping Beauty wakes up, tell her … Next time, please wait for a written invitation."
Copyright by
Mary Gay
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