Archive | August, 2019

Foxtrot Oscar..

11 Aug

No, not the slang for a rather rude form of go away, but the full name of my new companion.

As a regular reader, you’ll know (and if not you soon will) that I’ve been hankering after a cat. Not just any old cat you understand, but a ship’s cat. One that cruises with me and Hobo, and one that is good for a cuddle.

So here he is…

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What a cutie!

Better known as Foxy, he is all of the above. Well he’s shaping up that way, jumping from the bow of my boat to the stern of my neighbour’s. He is fearless. He runs along Hobo’s gunnels, jumps on the roof and, as yet, has avoided a dunking.

But don’t be fooled by his furry loveliness. He is also responsible for decimating the local vermin population, his oh so sharp claws making short work of it. And that’s a good thing, I just wish he wouldn’t bring me the evidence by way of little gifts.

But Boatbird deals with this, as she does with the cat’s hairs everywhere, the constant ‘need’ for food, stamping on my keyboard, wrecking my furniture and the irresistible urge to destroy my sleep patterns.

He seems to come to life at silly o’clock and wants to play. He will headbutt my chin, rub his wet little nose on my face and mew relentlessly for attention. Not to mention messing up my duvet with muddy footprints…

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But he makes me smile, and comes a time when you have to weigh up what is important and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s all worth it for the comfort, companionship and affection he gives. Who wants to live in a show home anyway? Not that that’s an option when you live aboard on the riverbank.

Naturally, being a cat, he is curious and dives inside whenever I open the fridge or a cupboard door…

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He can also be pretty chilled…

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Usually finding a spot where my feet or my bum want to be. We fight for my chair, he getting cosy the minute I stand up and complaining bitterly when I sit on him.

I’ve modified the vent in the door by way of a cat-flap…

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Works well. I like that he can come and go. And by that I mean go in the great outdoors, so I don’t have to provide a litter tray. There’s precious little space on board for such, and besides, I hate them.

He is shortly going to be tested, me about to throw him a curved ball. Boatbird is planning a little jaunt downriver to see how he copes with cruising. A little acclimatisation exercise. I fear he’ll wander off and get lost or be totally freaked by the moving boat and fall in – or worse.

In truth, I think he’ll love it and turn out to be a natural, probably tying the ropes, manning the tiller and working the locks before too long.

How cool would that be?

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Hmmm. Not looking likely.