So Howard has cleared customs, and is now a Mexican boat gato! Unfortunately, this isn’t his favorite anchorage, and life here has been an adjustment.
Howard hates the sound of boats passing us, and there are almost no birds here to look at here. As a result, his time outside is short. As soon as he gets settled somewhere, or starts to explore a new smell, a boat flies by. If he manages to get past the fear of the noise and stay outside, the roll of the wake and the sound of the water smacking the boat and the Aluminum Princess tied behind us is enough to send him back inside, searching for a bit of sun to nap in.
He’s taught himself how to climb the ladder that leads up to the flybridge, and likes to sit on the top step these days. From there, he can survey all, have a bit of protection (in his mind) and be able to make a quick jump back down to get inside, if things get too terrifying.
We are having unusually cool temperatures here, so I’ve added warmth to Howard’s “taco,” that he loves to nap in.
He’s also chosen to sleep with us at night lately. This is a big sign that he’s chilly, since he’s usually uber independent, and spends his nights on “anchor watch,” in the pilot house.
Scott deflated our rubber dingy yesterday, as we use the Aluminum Princess all the time here. We store the floor to that dingy under our bed. It was in the saloon awaiting storage, when Howard eyeballed a piece of duct tape sticking up from it, that looked appealing.
I caught him with it on the floor, trying to eat it. After it was taken from him, Howard went back for more. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.
Cool temperatures and boats have not slowed down Howard’s crazy play time. He and Scott have their regular games of chase. Howard will hop at Scott sideways, hunched up like a Halloween cat. Scott will shrink down past the steps and out of sight, and it’s on…Howard will race down into the hallway. Seconds later, after seeing Scott, he’ll come flying back up into the saloon and sail into his “play box” that Scott made him. It has several self-chewed holes, to better strike at your enemy from inside.
Howard gets so wound up, that he frequently pants. We’re not sure if it’s from being out of breath or from just being wound up, but are really glad that he didn’t do it when the Department of Agriculture was on board..can you say rabies??
If you haven’t already, check out Howard’s photo page. There are many new and entertaining photos of Howard’s early life onboard, and when he was still a land dweller!
“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”