Treiпsta lechoпes chilloпes llegaroп eп Ѕп pequeqЅeño camióп, coп sus cúerpos rosados пkυietos y cυriosos mieпtras Roger los gυiaba cυidadosameпste hacia los corrales.
That afternoon he called Marites from the mountain, his voice full of emotion and pride.
—Wait for me —he said confidently, while watching the little pigs explore their new home.
“Within a year, we will finally build our own house,” Roger promised, convinced of every word he uttered.
During the first few weeks, everything seemed to fit perfectly to his liking.
The lambs adapted quickly, feeding well and growing stronger day by day under Roger’s attentive care.
He would wake up before dawn to clean the corrals, refill the water tanks and mix the feed while the fresh mountain air enveloped the barn.
By mid-morning, the animals would calm down, giving Roger time to repair the fences or check the water pump.
Sometimes he sat on a wooden stool outside the corrals, calculating the profits in a small notebook.
If everything went according to plan, he calculated that the pigs could reach market weight in six months.
