You’ve probably heard of the famous paradox of Schrodinger’s Cat, wherein physicist Erwin Schrodinger illustrates the strange nature of quantum physics with a thought experiment involving a cat, a box, and a flask of poison. If you’re guessing that the story doesn’t end well, that’s the paradox: according to quantum physics, the cat is simultaneously alive and dead. Schrodinger, for his part, thought this was bunk, which was why he framed it in that way, and lately I am beginning to think so too, as Mandy and I are experiencing our own issues with undead felines.
The cat in question is the one pictured here, a good-natured calico named Rosie who has graciously allowed us to feed and shelter her for five years or so now. We inherited her from a friend who was moving. When we ourselves decided to move aboard after the wedding and go sailing for a month, we figured we would simply pass her along again, certainly to someone we knew so we could visit the furry little freeloader frequently. Despite our attachment, we never seriously considered bringing her on the boat with us (we’re not quite as adventurous as some people). She’s nearly twenty, though she doesn’t act it, and doesn’t adjust well to new circumstances. And, I couldn’t bear the thought of somehow losing her overboard… the waters are cold here and a small cat isn’t easy to spot in a big ocean.
So we were all ready to place her with a loving family of our acquaintance when something happened. I woke up one morning last spring and found her disoriented, walking in circles, getting stuck in corners, and trying to hide from us. When I did catch up with her, she acted as if her neck were causing her pain. So, off to the vet we went.
She worsened during the exam, and the vet had nothing definitive to tell us. He sent us off with some drugs to wait for the result of lab tests he would have run. Over the course of a couple of days, she improved gradually, and we hoped that it was simply a neck injury of some sort that was healing on its own over time.
The labs came back with a different diagnosis, though: feline leukemia, a terminal condition. The problems exhibited were probably due to an infection secondary to the leukemia. We should keep her on the drugs, the vet explained, and she might make a temporary recovery, but within six to eight months we should expect her to deteriorate to the point where she would have to be euthanized.
In addition to our natural sadness at such a dire turn, this complicated matters enormously. You can’t go and pawn a dying cat off on just anyone, and particularly not on your friends. No, you have to pawn them off on your family. So we arranged, and my parents graciously agreed, to take her in at their home in Port Hadlock during her last few months. We hoped we would be back from our trip in time to spare them the unfortunate task of taking care of her right at the end.
Well, that time has come and gone. Rosie has not only recovered, but grown fat and happy in the seven months since her six month death sentence was handed down. We figure that once she entered the realm of my stepfather, a notorious spoiler of animals, she decided she was on to something good and decided to stick around to take advantage of it. So now she gets table scraps, has her refrigerated wet food carefully microwaved up to a palatable room temperature just before being served twice a day, and she shows no signs of any terminal condition.
Nonetheless, she does not travel well and we do not figure her for a boat cat, certainly not as a new career at her advanced age. Not to mention which, it seems unlikely that we would be able to support her in the style to which she has become accustomed. So at my parents’ place she will stay, but there is a catch: they traditionally pack up in their RV with the coming of the Northwestern winter rains, and head south for warmer climes. So, what becomes of the cat? Well, it’s back to us… such that I am up in Hadlock right now typing this with her perched on my lap, drooling pleasurably on my arm. We’re cat-sitting for the winter (with some chicken-sitting thrown in for good measure) while my folks are away.
In truth, this isn’t a bad way for cruisers to go when exploring the more extreme latitudes. We ran into a couple last year heading north along the Inside Passage, David and Jo on S/V Spirit, who have sailed all over, from the Gulf of Mexico up to our neck of the woods, and they’ve made this their MO in northerly waters; find a secure place to stash the boat, and line up a housesitting gig through the winter months. Last I heard they were putting the boat in Sitka for the winter and coming back down to Washington until warmer weather returned to the Panhandle.
It’s a great strategy for cruising Alaska, such that I seriously considered it two years ago instead of heading up and back in one season. You’re left with a lot more time to explore, and there is much to explore up there.
Here, the arguments aren’t quite as strong, but there is the cat, of course, and the constant appeal of a warm fireplace to curl up in front of while the storms rage outside. In actuality, it should work out very well for us. Of the trips we have planned this winter, both involve us heading north. In December, we hope to haul out here in Port Townsend, and having a home base nearby will allow a considerably easier experience working on her. Then, in February, we have tickets for the Vancouver Olympics, and plan to use the boat as a base of sorts up there to enjoy the event. Jumping off from Port Townsend saves a day, at least, on that trip. And depending on weather, we may sail back and forth between here and there just in the normal course of commuting for business. Either way, we’ll be splitting our time between the boat in Seattle and the house here as a matter of convenience throughout the winter.