So, this morning at about 3:30am, Jordi goes up on deck to pee off the rail. John and I are woken up by Jordi exclaiming "Holy shit, you guys.... there's a CAT on the boat!!". This would not be so freaky if we were tied up a dock. We're not..... we're too cheap for that. Team Audax anchors for "free 99" just outside of marinas so we can use their facilities without paying. Yeah, that's right. That's how we roll. So the closest land is about 50 yards away. Somehow, a cat found his way onto S/V Audax during the night, as we slept.
Soon, all three of us were out in the cockpit, in our underwear, marveling at this lil' bastid. He was scurrying about the weatherdeck, in a panic, meowing his ass off... incessantly and loudly. His wails did not even cease for bowls of tuna and fresh water we procured for him! At one point he scaled my back like a tree, and I have the scratches to prove it. Everybody.... on three.... ".....cat scratch feverrrr..." [ed: Ted Nugent copyright issues] At another point he did a swan dive off the bow into the water. I gave him a 7.5 due to low degree of difficulty. He then climbed up into the tender and back onto the boat..... all on his own. FREAKAZOID! So we did the photo shoot, and then I volunteered to ferry El Cato to shore. We emptied out the anchor locker on the tender, and stuffed him into it. I shoved off, scouting for a suitable new home for this scrawny, young, frightened, wet and now shivering cat...... SCORE! I see boats that say "Policia" on them. It's a little marine cop shop. Surely the po-po could take care of him, or at least cart him over to the SPCA. I pulled up to the dock adjacent to the 5-0's.... best not to startle uniformed people with guns.... and I threw the lil' bastid out... Roger Clemens style. Sorry, cat lovers, but I didn't want him jumping back into the tender. He was fine..... he landed on all fours like cats always seem to figure out how to do in mid air. I dumped his tuna on the dock and sped off. As I departed, I looked back and he was scurrying around, still meowing to beat the band. G'night, and good luck, El Cato. At least eat the friggin' tuna, will ya? That's three lunchtime sandwiches on Team Audax!
[Disclaimer: If "El Cato" means something totally offensive in Spanish, I apologize. I had no idea, believe me. No habla espanol.]