It's not long until Steelie Pete and Sapphire Jen descend the companionway stairs, cautious to miss stepping on me while lounging on my rug. Gin and tonics soon in hand, Jen chats with Leslie while Leslie works on sauteeing some mushrooms to a rich, dark brown, dry consistency. I can hear Pete and Andrew in the cockpit, they are talking to someone - maybe me? It sounds like coaxing. “Come on, now. Come on!" But, usually, in this circumstance, Andrew would rudely just scoop me up. He’s not much for coaxing.
My eyes fall shut again, the warmth coming from the stove, the delicious smells, the murmur of my people enjoying the preparations for their holiday festivities, it all just lulls me into relaxing bones, and fur, and whisker into a tucked up snoozing, cat-curl, my tail packed around me to hold everything in place. Until...
There is a rustling in the stern bunk. Crumpling of some sort of fabric, a light tap-tap on the roof of my carrying crate. I wink one eye open, but I don't see anything at first. I close my eye again and relax back until I just sense something there.
“Thunk.” a soft, fur-pawed thud lands practically on top of me and with my cat-like reflexes I am up on all fours hissing without delay. My voluptuous tail springs into action, standing on end and floofing into a bottle brush cleaner. My hackles raise on my back into an calico colored Mowhawk, and I glance over my shoulder just momentarily to take stock of and admire the intimidating size and shape of my overall visage.
“HHHHHIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, RWAWWWWWRRRR!”
Standing before me, now cowering, is a fine boned, white and orange cat with a pink nose and pink paws. Her eyes glow a liquid gold, and her feet are so dainty and small, they could dot the pad of my paw without reaching any of my own toes. She wore a nametag so big, I almost wondered how she could carry it around her porcelain neck; it reads, “Coco.” She looked as surprised to see me as I was to see her. Despite her miniscule size, she courageously she sticks that pink nose slightly closer to me and sniffs. I stand up taller on the full length of my muscular, ledge-jumping legs and I hiss again.
“Who are you and why in the hell are you on my boat!?” I growl.
This little creature seems to realize the error of her ways. She looks in four directions considering her escape route and they flies up the companion way stairs practically screaming “It was PPPPEEEEEETTTTTEEE!” I follow her up the stars flexing my chest muscles and watch her jump without hesitation from Sonrisa’s deck to the decks of Steel Sapphire. Satisfied she is gone, I glare at Andrew and Pete. Inviting an invader into my space. Who does that?
And through the hatch in that confounding stern bunk, no less!
Rude.
I take a guard post in the cockpit and fold myself into a watchful loaf, paws pressed against the deck, ready to spring at the necessary. But, it wasn’t necessary. The orange creamscicle creature has departed and descended into the bowels of Steel Sapphire. Does Steelie have a new cat? Hmmm.... I'm not sure I like this new development. I am the resident sea lion. We don't need another one.
Later that night, when darkness descends on the anrchorge, my sailors stretch Steelie's jib sail across her deck and secure it to one of Sonrisa's cleats. The wind is calm, the night is perfect, and we settle in to watch the ever educational “Charlie Brown's Thanksgiving” projected onto the sail in order to educate all the non-American crew on the (stated) origins and significance of Thanksgiving. Being Malaysian, myself, I feel like I could benefit from viewing this documentary of theirs, but I couldn't concentrate. Instead, I was on watch for the orange creamsicle.
She did deign to peek her pink nose around the corner of Steelie's companion way doors and cockpit shelter a couple of times, and I swiftly leapt the gap to inform her of my position on the matter. Growling, hissing, and generally making a fuss from Steel Sapphire’s cockpit, I gather the attention of all the crew who each come to try to mediate our dispute.
The orange cat turns back around and descends into Steel Sapphire from whence she came. Good.
She knows I am in charge.
But who is she? I don’t think she is the angry cat.
Thereafter, I just couldn't get settled. Eventually, my crew finished their movie and the chocolate snacks Jen distributed to everyone in bowls. Then, they decided to go to sleep. Andrew tried to scoop me up, but I gave him a few kicks to warn him that I will disembowel him if he tries anything further, and he put me back down. I had a mission, and I wanted to wait until the people went to sleep.
This is my boat, too.
As silence crept upon our ships, I decide I need to make a reconnaissance mission to discover more about this orange and white tiny cat. One padded paw at a time, I skulk lower on my haunches and leap the gap between Sonrisa and Steel Sapphire guarded by one very large barracuda always waiting to gnash me in his teeth with one errant step overboard.
Safely on Steel Sapphire's side, I sit on my haunches, catch my breath, then skulk slower, still. I wiggle my butt, my pupils dialate, and I am ready. “Silently, silently Katherine," I say to myself, creeping down Steel Sapphire's top stair then making one long leap, stretching my body from staircase to the top of their fridge. I press each of my four paws into the Power-Sphinx-Stance, arrange my voluptuous tail to bottle brush position, then fluff my hackles into a ridge of undeniably sharp armor. I. Am. Ready.
I can see the Creamscicle sprawled across Jen's pillow, her paws pushing against Jen's head as if she is prepared to shove Jen's head off it's perch if she so decides. I wiggle my butt again, narrow my eyes to shoot laser beams, and begin: “Rooooowwwwrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr....." I start low, my voice horse with the gravel and brimstone of loathing. At first, nothing happens, so I raise my growl a decible or two. “Rooooowwwwrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr....." The Creamscicles golden eyes fly open and she looks across the room to see me. She stands, considering her options. I get louder, “Raaooooooowwwwwwwrrrrrrrrrrr, HIIIISSSSSS!" The Creamscicle pushes up against Jen’s neck and head, who stirs from her slumber. “RAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRR< HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSS!"
“Katherine Hepburn! No!" Jen sits bolt upright. Finding the Orange Creamscicle trembling in proper terror, Jen gets up and begins to chase me out. I glare at her and hold my position as long as I can. Jen swats at me, “Katherine, No! You get out! This is not your boat!”
"What? Yes, it is!”
"No! Not your boat. Sonrisa is your boat."
"This is my boat, too."
“No! This is Coco’s boat. Out!"
The nerve. Who the hell is this “Coco” I'm not in the mood to take this into full blown war right now, maybe later. I scamper out the companionway, and make a circuit around Steel Sapphire's deck. Jen locks me out with the companion way doors!
Rude.
Rude.
RUDE!
I rub my face on all Steel Sapphire menagerie I can find, then return to a position under the dodger to stand guard.
“Katherine Hepburn, what are you doing?" Sonrisa asks me.
“I'm standing guard."
“You are bullying Coco!"
“No, I’m not, I just want her to leave.”
"But Steel Sapphire is not your boat, I'm your boat."
“Both of you are my boats. I own a fleet."
“You do not, get back over here."
To this, I rub my cheek on the wall of Steel Sapphire's smooth and lovely hardtop dodger and knead my paws into her teak cabintop. Sonrisa rolls her eyes.
Not long thereafter, I can hear Leslie stirring below, awake with her pain again, snuffling and staving off tears. "Kitty? Little Cat? Kitty, where are you?" I hear her, but I don't answer her because I'm quite happy where I am, and I know just like Sonrisa and everyone else, she will want me to return.
"Kitty?" She huffs as she uses her full arm strength, rather than her legs to drag her body up the stairs and out of the companionway. She arranges herself in the cockpit and tries to stretch her arms above her head, do a few lunges, some modified plank poses under the silver light of a moon. She squints as she looks forward to see where I might be. "Kitty?" Now I can hear the worry building in her voice, undoubtedly worried that I - roof cat extraordinaire, ledge jumper, cat flier, courageous of all heights may have succumbed to the gap between Sonrisa and Steel Sapphire to be eaten by that barracuda.
I roll my eyes with irritation and give her one “meeeyow" from behind Steel Sapphire's dodger. She hears me and spies my silhouette through the windows.
“Kitty, what are you doing over there? Come back now."
“Mrrrnoooowww. I will not." She can't reach me in her current physical state of things, and I'm not causing trouble anyway future plans of warfare aside, and so I know I can safely ignore her and keep my way. And, to this I'm right. It's not long before she tucks herself back downstairs, to lay on the floor and moan. I keep watch until first light, when I decide to return to Sonrisa and take a sunrise lounge position in the cockpit while Leslie enjoys her six a.m. coffee.
Time to begin roasting the turkey soon, the spiced yams need to be pre-boiled and arranged with their sweet sauce and the apples. The "overnight salad" is compiled with its frozen peas, mayonnaise concoction, successful despite being renamed "Four Hours in the Tropics Salad.”
Thanksgiving seems to be shaping up as she likes. Cheerful despite her lack of sleep last night, she commands Andrew in gathering rose wine and champagne to tuck into Steelie's freezer still empty of all the Thanksgiving fixings with which Sonrisa is packed to the gills. The moment of celebration is upon us, and everyone gathers aboard Steelie compiling the whole meal to it's final feast-like status.
Jen has arranged a beautiful table fit for the honor of Thanksgiving.
Everyone joins for pre-dinner cocktails and a champagne toast in Steelie’s cockpit.
The turkey thermometer pops and the Thanksgiving feast is compiled
Andrew, a somewhat Novice Turkey Carver takes instruction from Mark, the friend we lovingly refer to as Anchorage-Dad.
Leslie passes each dish around the table for everyone to take a scoop and attempt the challenge of fitting the whole Thanksgiving feast on one plate. It feels like we have a little Thanksgiving family out here at sea.
Everything is going great until Andrew gathers up our turkey gizzards, liver and heart, fries it in a pan and puts half of it in my dinner plate.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Don't you want some turkey?" Andrew asks me.
“Yes, of course. What are you doing with the rest of that Turkey?"
“Well, I'm taking some over to Coco."
The Orange Creamscicle.
My Andrew?
This, I cannot abide.
