Tele Aadsen

writer - fisherman - listener

Some of you know my weaknesses.

Pie. Baked treats in gen­er­al. Delight­ful­ly pat­terned socks. Pens, paper, emp­ty note­books wait­ing to be filled. Fab­ric. Crafty peo­ple. Books. Bread and cheese. Those one-size-fit-all stretchy gloves. Hand­writ­ten cards. Ban­dan­nas. Funky cof­fee shops. Bad pop music. Good tat­toos. Coconut ice cream. Ravens – all of the corvids, real­ly. Squirrels.

(Joel inter­jects here that I have a par­tic­u­lar fond­ness for the crea­tures most peo­ple view as pests, “includ­ing humans.” It’s true: the out­casts have a friend in me. We rec­og­nize our own.)

And boat cats.

Reg­u­lar Hooked read­ers know Bear, but my boat cat his­to­ry dates back to 1984. My par­ents launched the sail­boat they’d been build­ing in the back­yard, sold the vet clin­ic that was both home and liveli­hood, found a new human for our two black Labs, and packed every­thing else into a 40-foot van. Every­thing, that is, except for Yacky.

This Siamese came to us as a client. His humans brought him in for a uri­nary block­age, then elect­ed to have him put to sleep, rather than pay for the treat­ment. “Well, if you don’t want him, can I have him?” my mom asked. Suc­cess­ful­ly flushed out, he nev­er had a prob­lem again.

When the Askari splashed, Yacky came with us. I sup­pose my par­ents fig­ured we had room enough for a cat that didn’t move much. Prob­a­bly the ensu­ing years of tran­sience weren’t a lot of fun for Yacky – sail­boat, house, bro­ken-down motorhome, dif­fer­ent house, new boat, dragged along with every bi-annu­al migra­tion. Some­how he lived to be 18, qui­et­ly dying aboard the Willie Lee II in 1995, my mom and I both at his fur­ry side.

Thanks to those ori­gins, boats and cats are inex­tri­ca­bly linked in my mind. How can you go to sea with­out a kit­ty to snug­gle? Who’ll you talk to when you’re 40 miles off­shore, tired of your ship­mate, and not going back to land for anoth­er few weeks? Who’ll be the boat’s chief morale officer?

(In 2005, I strug­gled to decide if I’d con­tin­ue crew­ing for my “broth­er” Mar­lin, or jump ship to work with Joel. A major nego­ti­at­ing chip was who’d be the first to get a boat cat. Those two know me awful­ly well.)

Some­one else does, too. My friend sweet wirk­man sent me a link today. “Cat Heav­en Island in Japan.”   Pho­tog­ra­ph­er Fubi­rai spent over five years doc­u­ment­ing the semi-fer­al felines, cared for by local fish­er­men. They’re stun­ning pho­tos. I swooned. (After some anx­i­ety over the spay/neuter/vaccination ser­vices. A com­menter claims such a pro­gram has been in place for years, and I’m choos­ing to believe that’s so.)

By Fubi­rai, from Buz­zfeed

I’d planned to spend tonight prac­tic­ing for a Fish­er Poets per­for­mance that’s in 15 hours, but cats on the inter­webs have com­plete­ly derailed me. If that hap­pens to you peri­od­i­cal­ly too, don’t miss these 50 gor­geous pho­tos. Let me know your favorites. I’m call­ing 2, 4, 10, 13, 16, 20 – oh, just go see for yourself.

(Also, the sto­ry claims that the sound­track is “option­al.” If you grew up in the Eight­ies, it’s most def­i­nite­ly NOT. As sweet wirk­man advised me, “play the option­al soundtrack.”)

And because I just can’t help myself, here’s a video of TWO of my favorite things, together.

I know some of Hooked’s reg­u­lars have their own boat cat sto­ries. Have at it, friends – I’d love to hear about your sea­far­ing felines. (Joel K, I’m lookin’ at you, sir…) And because we’re about inclu­siv­i­ty here, ocean-going dogs are wel­come, too. Who’s your ves­sel’s chief morale officer?