
Thank God I'm Alive; An Update from the Bosun
Jan 27
4 min read
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I need to share this with you and frankly, some of it's a little bit gory. So, if you have a weak stomach, be forewarned.
Cap wants you to think that our life is always bucolic and the waters always calm. Sort of like this where we're tied up in Carrabelle way up the Carrabelle River where not even a passing boat makes waves.

And, of course, he wants you to think this trip is relaxing so he shares pictures like the one below. You and I do have to admit though that, at my best, I am a pretty good looking 18 year old Cat (never forget the uppercase "C")

However--big however--it's been a tough couple of weeks for me since we got back on the boat. The trip down here from Bangor stressed me out. I hate cars, I hate planes, and I was not happy being Shanghaid back to the boat. They say that stress makes Cats constipated. You guessed it--I was a hurting cowboy (Catboy?). The Admiral tried all sorts of things and eventually I got sorted out--not without some serious diarrhea though which got all over me and which I tracked all over the boat. Thank God for the Admiral. She cleaned me and everything else up. Cap would have just thrown me overboard. I might be able to swim. Not sure. Never tried. Too smart to get wet like that.
I think they also tried to scare the you know what out of me. Can you belive who they let hover over our boat. Do they eat Cats?

As the days went by, I started to get more regular and was ready to eat more. To be sure the Admiral and Cap knew I was getting better, I waited 'til Cap grilled and served hot dogs for lunch. Just before they sat down for their meal, I dropped a big one in my box. Whew. Even I ran to hide my nose. I let Cap use the head the Admiral put my box in so she sent him down to collect the poop and stop the stink. He had a bright idea: instead of putting it in a poop bag and carrying it around for the next couple of days until we got back to land, not to mention carry it out through the salon where their lunch was ready, why not just flush it down the head? Turns out that was a horrible idea. The litter sticking to my poop plugged the toilet. Big time. The Admiral thought Cap was pretty stupid and told him so--several times. Poor Cap. He now had an angry wife and a toilet bowl two thirds filled with a nasty mix of slurried Cat poop. He bailed it out by hand and then tried all sorts of things to free the john. No joy and each one involved more bailing. Finally, Cap took the macerator off the head, stuck a wire he cut from a fly swatter into the joker valve, and, guess what? All the Cat litter came flooding back at him in a slurry of what looked like Cat diarrhea. It did not start out that way. The plug removed, Cap reassembled the head with a little grumbling and, voila, it worked just fine again. That was when the Admiral, who three hours before had told Cap that he was the most stupid man who had ever lived, said, "You know, the fact that you can fix things like this is why I married you." I ask you. Go figure.
At least Cap had time to enjoy the sunset and cook steaks for dinner. I decided to be on my best behavior.

But wait, there's more. Yesterday, we had a nine hour crossing of the Gulf of Mexico. I heard Cap and the Admiral talking about the forecast ahead of time. Believe me, if I'd had a vote, we'd have waited a day. But they agreed to try it and by the time things got bad, they were committed. When I say bad, I mean rough: 3-4 foot waves, 15-18 knots of wind, the tide against the wind, a short wave period, you get the picture. They were trying to make time and pushing the boat at 20 knots. I'm a little guy and that darned boat was throwing me all over the place. The Admiral took two Dramamine and lay down and dozed. I wish she'd shared those pills with me. Instead, I went to my box and had another great movement. But then, I threw up everything else which turned out to be quite a lot. You can imagine how the combined odors made the Admiral feel. Poor old Cap. He put the boat on autopilot and went down to the head we share, got down on his hands and knees, and cleaned up everything. As my Uncle Sam says, Cap has a stomach of steel. I mean, the boat was throwing him around too while he had his nose down scrubbing up and sanitizing with no horizon to gaze at.
Anyway, I'm having a good day today. It's sunny and warm--a nice change after a week of weather that was below freezing at night and in the morning. I've been out to the cockpit a few times. Cap's sitting next to me. We're tied up and the boat's not moving. I tell you my young friend, if you've got to be on a boat, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, quite so fine as being firmly tied to a good dock way up a river where there is no motion.
'Til next time,
Rascal
Commander In Chief
Horrible. What could be worse? How in the world does Cap do it? I'm sorry, but I just can't give this post a heart. I would not blame any of the three of you for mutinying after all that.
OMG!