Maybe Andrew and Leslie were sad to see the other sailors go, but for me this migration only opens opportunity: Boots is finally gone.
Who is Boots?
Uhg!!! Boots.
Boots is the ship’s cat “aboard” Whiskey Jack. I say “aboard” loosely, as he is almost never actually aboard Whiskey Jack. We’ve known of him since the Maldives, but Andrew and Leslie really got to know him in the Seychelles. I could smell that stinky brute all over their pant legs, and even on Andrew’s shirt and arms.
“You’ve been cuddling Boots, haven’t you!” I’d accuse Andrew upon his return.
“No! No, I swear. He just rubbed on by to say hello.”
I’d narrow my eyes into slits and growl a low, long hum of discontent.
Everyone loooooves Boots. He is a legend among cruisers. “Oh, Boots is so friendly. Oh, Boots is always up for a pat. Oooh, Boots. Boots! Boots! Boots!”
He’s a skanky Tom with a complete and total lack of discernment.
“Funny story about Boots…” It always starts here, and carries forward with another story of another day he catted about to the fish monger, or the aquarium, or a spa more than a mile away. “They called his boat people and said, ‘We have your cat. He won’t leave.’ And, his boat people – who apparently do have their wits about them said: ‘keep him, then!’” But they know, I know, we all know, Boots’ll be back. Unfortunately.
So, I was none too pleased when I heard we’d see Whiskey Jack again in Cape Town.
And, he wasted no time in his quest to irritate the hell out of me. He must have heard rumor, while enjoying his belly-rubs at the spa that a new cat was coming to town. I had just curled up on Sonrisa's port-side couch and tucked my nose under my front paws to enjoy the rare peace and quiet of our new Cape Town marina. Dropping through the layers of sleep, I was chasing a bird in my dreams when...
“Thud...”
Soft and almost silent, it was the unmistakable sound of an overweight cat-burglar. Instantly, I woke. I sniffed.
I scanned the room, watching for anything out of place in the dark.
“Hello?” My irritation was growing. I could smell him. “Dude. I can smell you, I know you are here.”
I climb down off the salon bench and crouch low to the floor as I slink to the companionway doors to peer out the window. I stand on my back legs, place my front paws on either side and press my face to the glass.
Uhhg, Boots! Through the window, I could see him roving between my beanbags without a care in the world. I growl and puff my tail into its most threatening state. He senses me glaring at him, and meets my eye. "Get the F< off my boat, Boots.”
He approaches the window. As he looms closer I realize...he is huge.
Really big, with golden eyes and an orange mane.
I growled louder, but he continued his approach. Sticking his head inside my entry hatch, he slithered through to sit atop my kitty-carrier always placed just below the window for my own ease of ingress and egress.
“GET MEYOUT!" I yowl, now highly distressed.
To my great relief, I then heard Andrew and Leslie on approach. They will chase Boots off, I’m sure of it. Boots looks me in the eye, raises the right corner of his mouth, and wiggles his eyebrow whiskers. His golden eyes spark with mischief and then he turns around to place his two front paws through the entry hatch to peek his head out. His back feet remained inside, his hairy tail swished slowly right and left
“BOOTS!" Andrew says, “Hey, buddy! How are you?"
Hey Buddy? Oh hell no.
“Boots, what are you doing here?" Leslie says. “You aren't bothering Kitty, are you?"
"Yes! Yes, he is. This is my boat. What is he doing here?" I say from behind the companionway door as she fiddles with the lock. She opens the door and I poke my head out to growl without anything between us now. But, I stop, shocked to find Andrew patting and stroking Boots’ head and chest as if they are long time pals.
“Stop that! What are you doing?" I say.
Boots looks in my direction, quite self-satisfied, then climbs up on my beanbag - the one Andrew had made “bespoke” just for me in Richard's Bay. "Get off that! It's mine!" I growl again and this time Boots climbs down across Andrew's lap and jumps atop my solar panel. Torn between defending my beanbag and chasing him from the solar panel, I opt for the beanbag and sulk. Pretty soon, Boots has helped himself to some of my dinner, he has explored Sonrisa's internal cabin, and even sniffed my litter box!
Inconceivable.
"All right, Boots, that's enough," Leslie says and she scoops him up into her arms and tosses him onto the dock.
Exactly, I do think that is quite enough.
Boots did not agree, however, and he returned several more times that evening and most days thereafter to make an appearance. On the nights warm enough to leave our hatch open, there was a real risk for Boots to drop in for a midnight snuggle. I’d yowl and growl; I’d make my opinion known! To no avail. He wouldn’t fight me; he just ignored. And so, I was constantly on guard and always annoyed.
Then again, a girl can only keep guard so many hours per day! Sometimes I’d fall asleep only to wake and find his orange ears resting on the hatch frame. Boots, napping away on my boat!
So, imagine my joy the day I heard Whiskey Jack was planning to depart.
“But, is Boots back from his latest vision quest?” Leslie asked Whiskey Jack’s lady.
“Nope, and I don’t care. If he’s not back, I’ll leave him!” She said.
“You’d better not,” I sniffed.
I considered heading out on my own vision quest to find him and herd him back. But, he returned of his own volition the very morning Whiskey Jack was scheduled to depart. The sailors gathered on the dock like they always do, smiling and waving, calling out “Fair winds, Boots!”
I watched from my perch atop Sonrisa’s solar panel. Whiskey Jack was puttering in slow circles waiting for the bridges to open, and I could see Boots on board…but only just. As Andrew waved, Boots placed two front paws on Whiskey Jack’s side-hull. He trained his gaze on the edge of the dock and loaded his rear end “springs”. His butt gave a wiggle, and my heart stopped, “He’s going to make a leap for it!” They must have heard me because Boots glared right at me when his girl-people snatched him up and folded his fluff into her arms. My whiskers twitch and I raise my paw to wave goodbye.
“Ahh….peace and quiet. Finally!”
All afternoon, I moved from place to place enjoying all my Boots-Free Napping Spaces. “I’ll have to ask Leslie to clean off all the residual Boots-Fur” I think, as I settled into my beanbag.
When I wake at dusk, a fresh evening breeze greets me. I stand and stretch, yawn, and sniff. “Smell that clean, Boots-free air!” I think.
I hop down from my beanbag perch, down the stairs, and to my food bowl. I sing out, reminding Andrew and Leslie that I’m feeling peckish. They lay out an offering of the good-kibble and I tuck in. I take a few laps of water, and then I lift my head.
I feel it, now. The Power Vacuum.
I climb back out on Sonrisa’s deck and tip my head. My whiskers forward, my ears turning in circles to gather all the data I may need. Yep, a power vacuum is open, and there is only one cat powerful enough to fill it.
I leap from Sonrisa’s side deck to the dock. The muscles in my shoulders ripple as my front feet land and I scamper forward with the grace of momentum. I strut a few paces down the dock. Flop onto my back and roll, roll, roll. Back to my feet, I look right and left. I’m just about to go forth to stake my claim when…
“Oh, there you are, Kitty!” Andrew pokes his head from below decks, “time for an evening walk?”
Damn. I try not to let him see my disappointment. He and I have been taking evening walks along the dock to visit all the catamarans. Apparently, South Africa is known to build all manner of big, shiny new catamarans. Once they are finished, they arrive here in this marina to receive their finishing touches before being loaded like cargo onto a massive delivery ship. I’ve tried a few on for size; the Leopard 45 is my favorite. Leslie keeps warning me not to go inside, as they may shut me up and ship me off somewhere like Turkey. So, usually, I take Andrew or Leslie or Andrew and Leslie along for my evening ramble.
On this night, Andrew disembarks and together we walk along the dock. The power vacuum is sucking me away, though. I can’t stop myself, I run several paces ahead before remembering I’m leaving Andrew behind. I stop and wait, but my shoulders lean toward that big beautiful apartment complex right over there, like it’s tugging at me. When we get to the crossroads where we’d usually turn toward the catamarans, I bolted the opposite direction. “Kitty, where are you going?”
Andrew follows me up the stairs and I stand just inside the gate for a moment longer before breaking through the bars and racing up the nearby tree. I perch in its branches like a Jaguar and claim the space. Leslie brings up the rear, having realized she’d been left aboard alone and not wanting to miss out on the catamaran promenade.
“This is my tree, now.” I tell her.
“I see that,” she says.
They sit on a bench under the now rising moonlight, waiting for me to get bored and return home. “Kitty, should we go back?” Leslie asked.
“No,” I said.
They waited a bit longer. “Let’s go back now?”
“No,” I said. This tree is just great. I can see everything from up here. I can see the moon reflecting in the water. I can see all the sailboats. And, I can see the apartment complex just waiting for me to take control. I think I’ll stay out here, tonight.
Leslie said she’d rather I come home with her. But, the greatest thing of all about this tree is that it is just next to the marina gate, but on the inside of the apartment complex. So, I can spend time with Andrew and Leslie while they sit on their bench, but they cannot reach me. At least not without convincing a security guard they are fancy enough to allow entry into the apartment complex.
And, trust me when I say: this is no ordinary apartment complex.
