“What’s so funny?” said Gray.
“Do you like pigs?” Our brother was still chuckling.
“As food?” I asked through a mouthful of sausage. It was seasoned with paprika and was pretty tasty.
“No,” said Zoltán. “As company.”
We assumed he was joking, but then we saw Magda go off with the attendant on the back of his motorcycle. Ten minutes later they returned, and when they dismounted, we saw that the old woman was clutching a pair of piglets to her chest.
I’d never held a baby pig. These were Mangalicas, a famous Hungarian breed that grow up to be wooly haired, like sheep. Our two were not very wooly; their coats were still coming in. To me, they resembled puppies, plump and floppy-eared. True, they had cloven hooves and snouts but, like puppies, they adored being tickled on their bellies.
