Fishy Things etc.

The smell of fish hit me in the face the second I got out of the car. I wouldn’t call it a stench, because it was too much a part of the ocean to be a bad thing.
It was early and I was freezing, but Houtbaai was wide-awake and a lot brighter than me.
A fishing boat close to us was unloading its morning catch of all shades of fish ranging from dull to metallic and everything in-between. It was like a mosaic of multi-coloured scales. We inspected.
“I never knew hake had such sharp teeth.” my father commented.
The fisherman closest to me looked annoyed. “Yes.” he said. “Very sharp.” Then he continued unloading.
My father stayed to watch them, but something considerably less fishy had caught my attention.
Far away from the water’s edge sat an enormous seal, looking very out of place on the concrete. He had big, sorrowful, black eyes and whiskers almost the length of my forearm.
I wanted to approach it, but wasn’t sure if I could without it eating me.
A tall, scrawny man who hardly had any teeth came up and introduced the seal as Pietie Boy. The name was cute, but I still wasn’t convinced.
A couple of tourists with very distinct American accents and shiny cameras walked up and started taking pictures of Pietie Boy, oohing and aahing all the way.
When they walked away without any severe bodily harm after standing so close, I figured I’d be safe. I approached him, whispered a quick plea for him not to devour me and straddled him.
As my mother snapped away, I petted Pietie Boy and listened to him make strange little gurgling noises, something akin to a cat’s purr. I could only assume that he liked the attention.
We left that day with and abundance of pictures, but I was happier that I’d made a new friend.