"Sorry about the wait," I say to twenty or so guests waiting patiently under the willow tree for the next tour to begin. "We're down a guide today."

At that moment, young Franklin the pig looks up from his spot in the far corner of the pasture that borders our waiting area.

"Kids!!" I summon the group. "I need your help!"

I point to my friend with the pink skin and fuzzy ears, then say, "I'm going to count to three, then I want everyone to shout as loudly as you can, "FRANKLIN!"

As his name leaves our collective lips, Franklin leaps the creek that divides his field in half, and is trotting in our direction. grunting in anticipation. The group hovers around me.

"Whath he doing?" a wide-eyed child of five or six lisps through the hole in his top teeth, uncertain whether to laugh or to flee in terror from the 500-pound body barreling right at him.

I squat so that we are eye to eye. "What's your name, sweetie?" I ask of the little boy, who by now is nothing but breath and bulging brown eyes.

"Malcolm," he whispers, glancing furtively at his mom. Franklin is a foot from us, pushing a soft snout into the wire mesh fence, his requests for company growing louder by the second.

"He's talking to us," I explain. "He's saying "Malcolm, come right here so I can meet you: I bet you'd be a great friend."

"Thath really what he's thaying?" Malcolm aks.

"AbsoLUTEly!"

Malcolm smiles.

"Hi, everbody," I say to the group. "I'm Kathy Stevens, founder of Catskill Animal Sanctuary. "In just a moment you'll learn about the mission of CAS--who we rescue, how we make our choices, why we encourage all our guests not to eat animals like my friend here. But right now, we've got some pig kissing to do." A few chuckles emanate from the group, and one woman says, "I've been looking forward to kissing a pig all summer."

I edge over until I'm right in front of Franklin, and offer my hand to Malcolm. He takes it.

"Pigs are very loud, Malcolm, and that's a scary thing if you're not used to it. But look: Franklin can't come any closer because he's behind this fence," I explain, touching the top rail of Franklin's pasture.

"Sit right here," I encourage him, and little Malcolm folds his legs and sits so that our knees are touching. "Hi, best pig in the world, hi, you good, good pig," I say to my friend as I flatten my hand against the metal mesh so that he can push into it with his muddy snout the way he likes to do. "I love you, Franklin."

I take Malcolm's hand and hold it beneath mine, and watch the child's smile grow as Franklin greets him.

"He's all muddy," Malcolm giggles.

"Yeah," I say. "You might be just a little dirtier when you leave here than you are now." I glance upward at Mom.

"Not a problem," she responds, her smile as big as her son's. "This is worth a little dirt."

The group has gathered around us, and I sense an opportunity.

"Well, everyone," I turn around to address the group, focusing on the children. "I haven't given 'Franklin a kiss yet today, so I'll be right back."

I hoist myself up and over the fence, and step down beside my porcine pal. Franklin rubs his cheek against my thigh and oinks his most emotional hello. When I kneel, I am smothered in pig kisses: wet muddy snout against nose, cheek, mouth, head. I kiss him back then smile to the group. Most are laughing with delight; one woman looks like she wants to grab her child and flee from what must be some kind of demonic pagan cult. ("They actually kiss pigs," I imagine her saying to her husband over their pork chop dinner.)

"Anybody else want to kiss a pig?"

Before she either faints or vomits, the pork chop eater does, indeed, take her child and head toward the parking lot. In the meantime, two young girls are squealing with glee, entreating their parents.

One at a time, Dad passes each of the girls over the fence. Franklin, of course, is beside himself, and the girls are instantly both filthy and in love. "I love you, Franklin," the older one says, "I love you, Franklin," the younger one mimics through delighted giggles as a cool snout greets her.

I pass the human packages back over the fence, already suspecting I'll need my ice pack tonight.

Malcolm, frozen in place on the other side, looks up at me, his eyes saying everything.

"Ok, trooper," I smile as I hold out my hands to help him over. "Ready to have some fun?"