Cats sailing

Cats are always a blessing aboard. I sailed with a very large Maine Coon cat named Buttons. He fearlessly guarded his territory (the boat) and because of his yellow color got the name 'el Tigre' by local kids who came by to see him. One officious port captain actually asked me if my tiger was tied up. Since Buttons usually wore a harness, I said "yes". The guy went below and a few seconds later came flying up the ladder and sped to the dock.
I figure that my cat yawned which scared the fellOw saw a tiger. My papers were thrown at me and I never saw the port captain again.

sailing cats

Rosie was the other half of our sailing cats. She was an Irish dutchess. Pranced on her toes as she swished her over-fluffy tail. She was a great boat cat. Usually she was very shy with strangers. However, on the boat, she lost all of her inhibitions and whenever anyone came aboard, she jumped up on the aft table in front of the guest and spreadeagled for a tummy rub - go figure (lol). She would hop up beside me at the helm whenever we went out of the slip. Baccarat, on the other hand went down below and dug his claws into some wood and held on.

alternator OK

Finally all is well with the truck (fingers crossed). Guy at AutoZone geve me a hint. Now everything is working well YES! Getting ready for the Maricopa Home and Garden Show. Will be offering the BBQ Sauces, mustards and wine jellies as usual. Looks like an easy set up - No tent drive right up to the booth and unload.

sailing cats

Baccarat was with me for 20 years. He was a big (20lbs) lazy and clumsy Maine Coon cat. He loved being on the boat with us. I was working as a harbor master in Monterey CA, living with two cats on the boat. Bac, a territorial, individual that defended his boat space from all comers. For instance, one afternoon a German Shepard came prancing down the dock, away from his master off the leash. He got close to our boat. Bac took exception to the intrusion and fluffed out all his fur, growled, hissed and extended his claws. The German Shepard backed away just as its owner came looking for him. The owner was really embarrassed by his dog who cowered from a mere cat. Bac, unperturbed, curled up on the cabin top for a well deserved snooze in the sun.

On another day, Bac decided to go for a dock stroll. As this was a forbidden activity, we ran after him. He skittered out on one of the dock fingers and by his posture, I could tell that he knew he was in trouble. So he decided to get away from me by jumping the 13 feet across to the next finger. The otters on the water watched the spectacle of the mighty leap and subsequent splash into Monterey Bay. I got him fished out after he cat paddled to me. A good towel drying then a week of his self grooming (and subsequent hairballs) got him back to normal. He did not leave the boat again. I suspect that the otters are still laughing . . .

The end?

The new alternator in and running. Had a scare - my Voltmeter only registered 12 volts. Come to find out that it was wrong. New alternator actually pumping out 14.4 volts.

car trouble

Alternator blues. Seems the new alternator has a bad diode . . . Back to the local AutoZone for yet another replacement. Whoop-di-do. I am just taking a break from putting the new one into the truck.

Brawley, car trouble

I got stuck in Brawley, Ca. on Friday nite. Alternator in my truck decided not to alt. Waited out in the desert for about an hour and a half for the AAA truck to arrive. Got towed into Brawley and parked in the AutoZone lot. The tow driver then dropped me off at a motel in town. Walked across the street to a Jack in the Box. They were closed, except for the drive-in. The manager made an exception and let me in so I could get a cold drink and something to eat. Next morning, after no sleep (worry) I walked back to my truck and started the hassle of getting a new alternator. First I had to be ordered and Tuesday - soonest. Then by a miracle one appeared and I replaced it using tools loaned to me by the store. John, the customer service guy at AutoZone charged up my battery and came out to check on me often. When I went across the street to get an iced tea he went out and took the new alternator back into the store to ensure that no one stole it .. . The new alternator did not work. Had to get another one from El Centro. John replaced that one for me. Success. Bottom line. everyone that I came in contact with in Brawley were overly helpful, and just fantastic. Nice to see.

cat sailing stories

When sailing alone it can get really lonely. I mean really lonely! So I have, when possible, had a cat as a shipmate. They are reasonably self sufficient and on rare occasions, actually seem like they are listening to my ramblings in a seaway. And they can provide some much needed relief during times of lonely stress. Spishtac, rescued from a dumpster in Hong Kong may give you an example. Spishtac was a runt of a litter living on a pig farm in Pak Sha Wan, a coastal village north of Kowloon. He had his tale lopped off by the farmer's wife before being uncerimoniously dumped to die. He was rescued and became my sailing companion on an 80 day single handed passage from Hong Kong to San Francisco (read the book 'Pacific High'). We were in the middle of a full gale winds above 60 knots, pitch black on deck. An emergency required going out on deck. So I, after deliberations, was elected. Spishtac wanted to go out on deck, too. But a little 3 pound cat with decks awash didn't seem ideal. He abhored being locked below. I donned my foulies and made my way forward I snapped my harness onto the deck lifeline and did my work. A wave took me and tumbled me ass over teakettle, snapped the harness line and washed me down so most of my body was in the water on the lee side. The boat was making about 7 knots and I was being pulled into the sea. Talk about scared! I managed to ge myself back on board and up to the mast step when Spishtac floated toward me in the next wave that crashed over the bow. I grabbed him and uncerimoniously stuffed him into my foul weather jacket and finished the work. He didn't move while in the jacket - good thing because his little claws were very sharp.

Seems he had made his way out through a crack in the companionway and went hunting for flying fish, or whatever. I warmed up some reconstituted milk for him while I dried him and me with a towel. I had a cup of hot tea. From then on his favorite napping spot became my foul weather jacket.

sailing cats

I haave been thinking about the cats that went sailing with me. My greatest companion was
Buttons. He was a 22 lb Maine Coon Cat. And rightfully, according to his actions, the captain of the vessel. He was a very independent soul.
For example, we both wore harnesses in a rough seaway that kicked up from time to time. Even though he was a large yellow feline, if he went overboard, I would never be able to find him. Therefore, his harness.
I, on the other hand wore my harness because if I was washed overboard, his independence would rise and I am s ure he wouldn't bring the boat around to rescue me. He'd just keep sailing along waiting for a flying fish to brain itself on the cabin side.

bipolar

Living with a bipolar individual is extremely stressful and fraught with the great unknown. Never knowing when that person will go off the deep end or be calm. Don't know how to cope sometimes.

seahorse memories

This blog is entitled 'life thoughts'. I have been kinda' scribbling about what is going on around me in the present tense. However, there are times when something triggers a childhood memory that I would like to share. This is one of them. I grew up in a small New England town, Lakeville Mass. I took on the job of paperboy - another memory of going to the New Bedford Times building and actually seeing a paper being printed. Anyway, one of my customers, a Mrs. Cudworth owned a house built in the late 1600's. The house was chock a block full of antiques and a collection of sea related things. Coral, shells, and other things of the sea sat on side tables, shelves, in nooks and hidden in other crannies. On the Saturdays that I collected for the paper, Mrs. Cudworth always made me go into her living room and sit in a large morris chair and watch a piece of white coral. She claimed that if I was real still, while she made me a cup of cocoa, I would see a seahorse living in the coral and if I was really lucky, I would see it move. Each week I would do as told. Sometimes, I could a'lmost see something move in the coral. Never did I really see the seahorse. Guess I didn't believe enough. Strange how certain memories stay with one for so many years. Even stranger is how vivid the memories are . . .

warfarin, lovenox, VA

my INR (whqtever the hell that is) is up to 1.3 (presumably because of the pills and shots. VA is monitoring my blood and calling me to find out how I'm doing. Get that kind of concern in the private sector. I still don't really like shoving a needle in my gut twice a day . . . Back to the VA. I am still irked about the people that bitch and moan about having to wait in emergency. They handle things on a worse first basis. Hangnails go last. I have not had better care in any hospital than in the VA system. From Florida to Arizona the care has been more than excellent. Anyway, I got a call this morning to ensure that I had enough needles and they wanted to check my blood on Thursday because of the long weekend coming up.