Maybe now is a good time to interject with a training module on how to leash train your sea-bound cat to ensure she stays aboard. It would be a good time, if I knew anything about how to succeed at such a project. Alas, we have been trying to leash train Katherine Hepburn since the Thai Jungle Disaster of 2019. We watch endless series of videos with cats trained to enjoy their leashes. Andrew dreams of swimming with Kitty on his head and walking her like a dog along the beach. This cat will. not. have it.

And it’s not just the leash. It’s training of any kind. Last week, we tried to go back to the basics using her rarely found but favorite flavor of treats (duck!).

Andrew would point to a spot he wanted her to go.

He said, “Kitty, here.”

Point.

“Kitty, here.”

Point.

And then, he would place the treat on the floor.

She came to get the treat and he would make the “unique sound” that you want to train by. In this case “Yessssssss, Kitty!”

Then, he repeated this process a second time.

Point.

Call.

Kitty retrieve treat.

Unique Sound Response.

He repeated this process a third time, but this time, Katherine Hepburn tipped her head when he called her name, looked at him sideways as if to say “ooooh, I see what we are on about, here," then scowled deeply at him as she retrieved her treat. Her eyes widened when he made the Unique Sound Response.

On the fourth attempt, she sat back on her haunches and glared.

Andrew tapped the floor with more intensity, the duck treat laying at his finger tip.

I swear to you this cat wiggled her butt in place as if to say, I am staying right. here.

Andrew laid down a whole PILE of duck treats.

Kitty remained nonchalant. She looked at the pile, looked up at Andrew, and licked her paw. Then, she stood up and walked the opposite direction of a whole pile of duck treats!

“Maybe she is not hungry anymore,” I suggested.

But, we retried the process the next morning, and she didn't take us up on even one treat! She climbed up in her shelf and glared at us through the slats.

When it comes to the harness, we take our lives in our hands while trying to put it on - claws and daggers all exposed. Once it’s on, she acts like we’ve murdered her kitten. She engaged in all manner of begging for us to take it off. There is crying, and hunger strikes. Last time, she almost hung herself off the leash trying to escape down the hatch in a fit of rage at the sound of the leash-clip closing. Eventually she enters full blown depression and imprisons herself in her litterbox until we agree to take it off. I know, I know, distraction and play! Treats! I know! We’ve tried it, I swear.

It hadn't been much of a problem until South Africa because we always live on anchor, and she doesn't like to swim. Therefore, she has no mode of egress off Sonrisa. Even tied up to the docks in South Africa, she usually preferred to stay aboard unless we went exploring with her. It was only after Boots left that she went feral.

I do feel obligated to be a better cat parent and prevent my “sea lion" from beating up on Orange Land-Frenemies to take control of their space. I really do. We are going to have to sort this out before we reach the East Coast of the US and find ourselves located more often inside marinas.