Timmmynocky the Sailor Cat, a true adventure

Those of you have visited my website at picasaweb.com/kujakupoet will familiar with Timmynocky, the junior of our two cats here on the Kalmar Nyckel. We were at Harborfest in Norfolk, Virginia, when the following events unfolded.

Timmynocky is normally allowed to roam free when we are in port. He knows how to find his way home and returns for food, which is provided to the cats only at scheduled times so we can secure them when it's time to leave. Timmynocky was allowed off his leash and went ashore Thursday night. I was last watch of the night and stayed up a while on account of the heat. Timmy returned about midnight in the company of two beautiful young blonde women. They were very concerned about his welfare. They found him a mile and a half away, caught him, and called the number on his name tag. That is the ship's office number, which is not open at midnight. Timmy escaped them, and they went in pursuit with the intent to take him to a shelter.

For two hours they pursed the cat. He eventually arrived back at the ship, jumped in through the gunport, and disappeared in a huff. I could tell he was annoyed. The young women then told me what a great cat he is and how worried they were for him, etc. They told me about his capture and escape, and grabbing the fronts of their blouses, pulled them around and showed me how he left his pawprints all over them. Now I happen to be gay, but I am not blind, and the actions of shapely young women flapping their shirts and drawing attention to the way Timmy had his paws all over their breasts is one of those memorable moments in a sailor's life. I was thinking to myself that the straight male members of the crew would be envying the cat. I exerted my self control and remained politely bland and appreciatve of their concern for the cat.

Next day the captain put Timmy into his harnes in addition to his collar and made a new tag. A ship's business card with the ship's cell phone number and an explanation of who and what he was, beginning with the words, "I am not lost," was affixed. Next day, I was the recipient when a rather handsome pirate courteously returned the cat, even though he had only been thirty feet from the ship. Apparently, "I am not lost" and "I belong to the ship right in front of you" is not sufficient. Once again I thanked Timmy's rescuer, and privately told him appreciated his consideration in bring home a suitable man. However, it was a public festival, so I was obliged to express my thanks to the handsome pirate in the customary way.

Friday night Timmy once again appeared with a beautiful young woman on his arm. I was visiting the Godspeed that evening, and looking over the rail, I saw a woman with Tim in her arms going by, so went ashore and received him. This time, Timmy was in trouble with the law. The Norfolk police had apprehended him and explained to her that pets were not allowed at the festival, and that all pets had to be leashed and harnessed. They said if he was picked up again he was going to jail. I mean, Animal Control would take him to a shelter. So this young lady walking the waterfront looking for his ship. I received Timmy back, thanked her, and carried hiim home.

We were far along the waterfront and Timmy was purring up a storm and totally relaxed in my arms. You could tell he was well pleased with himself and thoroughly enjoying his run ashore. Once we came within sight of the Kalmar Nyckel he tensed up and began to resist. I shanghaied the cat and brought him aboard against his will. He had a few words of cat profanity for me as he was brought before the officer of the watch. The officer of the watch was not inclined to humor the shore police, and asked if they were harbor patrol or regular police. I reported that I didn't know, but they had side arms. Reluctantly the mate curtailed Timmy's shore leave. In an argument, the men with the guns win.

Timmy was confined to the brig by being leashed and secured to the ship. He was in a royal sulk and gave me the "you-effing-traitor" look. The mate apologized profusely to him. "Sorry, dude, but it cost a hundred bucks the last time we had to bail you out."

Is this cat a true sailor, or what? He goes ashore, picks up women, gets busted by the police, and thrown in the brig. He has a more exciting life than the rest of the crew combined.

~K~

No wedding garlands for cats in port, eh?