A friend of mine suggested I go swimming with dolphins.

I told her when I swim with my family, I swim with manatees, but she said humans don’t count, no matter how much blubber they’re carrying.

Apparently, at the Marineland Dolphin Adventure in (where else?) Marineland, Florida, you can go for a swim with big fish of the family Delphinidae.

Okay, so maybe officially dolphins aren’t fish. But they look like fish.

They have flippers. They have tails. They have teeth.

Sharp teeth. Lots of them.

According to a number I first made up and then reluctantly checked on Google, dolphins can have up to 200 chompers.

Yikes.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not that good in water. The prospect of flailing around while surrounded by mammals (Yes! They’re mammals!) with 200 teeth each is not appealing.

For the math-challenged among us, a swim in the water with five dolphins is a swim where you are surrounded by 1,000 teeth.

That is a lawsuit screaming to happen, except you can’t sue dolphins for chewing your arm off.

Great white sharks, by contrast, have around 300 teeth in their mouths. That means each dolphin is, teeth-wise, two-thirds of a great white.

It’s “Jaws” all over again, except dolphins aren’t loners. They travel in packs, like toothy, underwater wolves.

And I’m the metaphorical deer—or moose—or gazelle—or whatever wolves eat, except of the underwater variety.

Fine, so maybe most dolphins don’t snack on humans. Most dolphins, I have heard, are friendly, almost cuddly creatures.

But I have done my research, and I know that the average bottlenose dolphin weighs about 600 pounds.

That means any cuddling is absolutely out of the question, unless I wish to end up as a pancake.

Plus, dolphins are slimy. I’ve been in aquariums before, and everything that lives underwater, besides smelling rotten, is covered by what feels like gobs and gobs of phlegm.

I used to have a dog, and one time he slobbered all over one of my winter gloves. When I put it on, it was like putting my hand into a mitt made of mucus.

Petting dolphins, I am assured, is a similar experience.

I almost threw up a little while writing that.

But then I remembered that my computer is worth a lot of money, and there’s no way I can buy another one if this one gets damaged by blubber, mucus, or breakfast.

Especially when you consider the potential dolphin lawsuits I’ll have to file.

But my friend went swimming with dolphins anyway, and she reported the experience to me.

Apparently, it was a joyous bonding experience. The dolphins push you every now and then, and they don’t feel slimy at all.

Okay, so maybe they’re a little slimy, but it’s not all that bad. They swim up and flip around and even offer their bellies for belly rubs.

They’re not like underwater wolves. They’re like underwater dogs.

That is a valuable distinction.

I used to think swimming with dolphins was like swimming with a pack of great whites, but now I know it’s like swimming with a group of golden retrievers.

Echolocating, fish-smelling, hairless, 600-pound golden retrievers, but golden retrievers nonetheless.

This analogy is growing a little strained, but bear with me. One day, I think, I will plan another trip to Florida.

I might even choose to swim with dolphins.

And just in case the dolphins are hungry, I’ll have a secret weapon.

I’ll bring my delicious family with me.

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Copyright 2026 Alexandra Paskhaver, distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons newspaper syndicate.

Alexandra Paskhaver is a software engineer and writer. Both jobs require knowing where to stick semicolons, but she’s never quite; figured; it; out. For more information, check out her website at https://apaskhaver.github.io.