Cats on Boats

First, I’m going to cease apologizing for my sporadic writing. I’m getting married in less than two months, for heaven’s sake, and my mind is addled with über-important things like frosting-tasting, finding shoes that aren’t flip-flops, securing some attractive port-a-johns, and purchasing spandex undergarments. I’ll consider myself forgiven.

Meanwhile, despite being more than a bit busy here on the North Star, Jeremy and I are toying with the idea of adding one more element of chaos to our lives. This weekend, in addition to checking myriad items off our wedding to-do list, we’ll be visiting a few local shelters where Jeremy will attempt to manipulate kittens to steal my heart.

I’ve never been a cat person. Growing up, we were a dog family that dabbled in cats just twice: the first became road kill on day two, and the second was a wild minx of a thing that embedded her claw in my sister’s gums upon introductions. She was promptly given away. During and since that time, I’ve had no use for the things, and have even come to suspect that I’m allergic to their excessive amounts of fur.

So why are we considering this proposition? Good question. I’m beginning to ask myself the same thing as I write. But wait: there were a few good reasons, if I can just dig them up…

Right then. First of all, Jeremy is super cute when around cats, in a heart-melting kind of way. Reason number two concerns the naming opportunity. I’ve always had a propensity for naming things; by the time we had acquired the family dog, my third-grade self had already generated a 2-page list of male, female, and gender-neutral possibilities. Of course, the ultimate decision was left to my father, but only because he needed the most convincing to agree on a dog in the first place.

Finally, the ultimate justification: think of the merchandising opportunities! We’ll start with the ever-popular kitten calendar, which will feature our hapless creature forced into all manner of sailorly positions that will be impossibly cute. Kitten at the helm. Kitten studying a chart. Kitten setting the mains’l. Kitten using the head. The only natural successor to this would be a series of children’s books, followed by a PBS series (no selling out to a cable network for our little star!) and a tasteful product line.

Regardless of the infinite opportunities that come with owning a kitten on a boat, I do have some apprehensions. First, when it comes to interacting with the feline population, I’m frightfully awkward. I don’t know how to pet them or pick them up, and I feel uncomfortable when they approach me, not knowing what their intentions are. I have reason to believe that their food is disgusting, what with the fact that they enjoy mice and birds the way I relish cupcakes. Speaking of mice and birds, if a cat dropped one at my feet, I would have nothing short of a mental breakdown. It can kill all the mice it cares to, but I mustn’t be forced to see or address the remains.

Then there’s the issue of claws meeting our cushions and woodwork down below. We’re not in a financial position to replace a teak interior, at least until the cat can start making money for us. And yesterday, Jeremy mentioned something about the fact that boy cats (whose name list is far longer than girls at this point) tend to “spray.” What a tactical term. He should have said “urinate,” instead of giving me the impression that they’re handy with a bottle of Fantastik. Oh, and have I mentioned that I very well might be allergic to the things?

Ultimately, it’s the swimming lessons that tip the scales in favor of kitten acquisition. See, our (Jeremy’s) extensive reading about cats on boats suggests that establishing comfort in a marine environment is essential, and all boat cats must be comfortable with exiting and returning to the boat in an aquatic fashion. This means that one’s kitten should be tossed overboard with some regularity until it learns to climb back aboard via a thick rope hung over the stern. I see a YouTube video in the making with this one.