Hope laughs. “For the record, I’m never eating an apple again. These are for the pigs. According to the brochure in the lobby, they like fruit. Apples were all they had at the sandwich shop.”
“Kind of you to provide such a feast.”
“You know I go big when I order food. And I want the pigs to like me. I’m not above bribery.”
“You know, not to dampen your enthusiasm, but I’ve been around my fair share of pigs, and they’re quite smelly. You might not want to get too close.”
“And why is it that you hang out with pigs?”
“I meet all my farm suppliers personally. And we Brits cherish our pork.”
“Well, anyway, the pigs swim in the ocean all day. They probably smell like mermaids.”
“And how do mermaids smell?”
“Briny.”
We meet our tour group and trek out to the beach, where we’re catching a boat that will take us to Rose Island.
“Excited to get back on the sea?” I ask Hope.
“Honestly it’s a bit triggering. I didn’t think this through.”
“Let’s try very hard not to miss the boat back this time.”
She shivers. “Don’t even joke about that.”
The trip to the island is about twenty-five minutes, and when we get there the crystal-clear shallows are teaming with small- to medium-sized swine frolicking about with half-submerged tourists. Many of them are gamely posing for pictures with people holding selfie sticks.
“They seem to enjoy modeling,” I observe.
“Oh my God, look at that!” Hope says, pointing to a man hand-feeding a carrot to a speckled pink piglet, who chomps it slowly and with relish. “Come on, let’s go make friends.”
She wades to the beach with her bag of apples and immediately commences flirting with every pig in sight. She, and the creatures she is so entranced by, are adorable.
“Can you take our picture?” she asks me, as she scratches a brownish-pink pig on the snout.
I take many.
Then she tosses me an apple and demands I feed a pig too. She makes me give my phone to a fellow tourist and requests a picture of both of us with a very large, speckled swine who snorts into Hope’s neck.
Once we’ve thoroughly documented our adventure, I stash my phone back on the boat and we get into the water to swim. The pigs frolic around us.
“They’re like especially friendly dogs,” I say.
“I’ve had cats for a decade that have liked me less,” she says.
“You have cats?”
“No, not right now. I meant as a kid. Do you have any pets?”
“No. But I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a dog.”
“What kind?”
“A rescue. Something big.”
“To scare off burglars?”
