The two noble steeds, Elk and Hog, conversed amiably. The majestic Horny Horn droned on:
"No idea why I'm still doing this. This "fight off challengers to my harem" thingy, I mean. No fidelity among the cows of today at all. Every mating season they spot some young elk-flesh and are ready to dump me, their Protector of so many years, and chase after some smoother flank or more furry tail tip. Why do I even care to bother? Must be them hormones or summping, as brains it ain't ... "
Springtail burped to show his interst in the story, as was the way amongst the swine, and nodded.
"Aye. Wimmin. They pounce you, take what they want from you, and all in such a haste that you don't even get to ask their name. And what's a pig to do later - shout at any vaguely familiar looking sow - "hey you, are those piglets mine?". Hard to be a conscientious sire in times of such moral decadence ..."