I’ve made an adorable friend here in San Carlos, he’s a handsome Mexican cat who lives near the dustbin compound but he knows loads, he tells me I’m being robbed, that I should get myself a lawyer. I like him a lot, he tells me that one day he wants me to have his kittens, he’s all the time going on about that. My Mexican friend tells me lots of other things too… like, I should be paid the national minimum wage for the work I do because he thinks I’m being treated like a slave. Did you know there’s a minimum wage here in Mexico and it’s eighty-eight Pesos a day? I didn’t know that until my adorable Mexican friend told me. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a national minimum wage or even what a national minimum wage was. And now I’ve found out that back there in England the national minimum wage for a cat is three pounds and seventy an hour. Do you believe that? Did you know that? Me, on this ship I don’t even get paid any minimum wage.
I don’t get paid nothin’, nothin’ at all, I have to work all day and every day just to get my terrible food…
This is what happened. Don’t let anyone else say different coz I was the one that fell into the sea.
It was that dog from the other boat, the boat that was tied right next to us. I got bored so I went down through their hatch, the one they’d left open, I wanted to take a look around but of course that stupid dog thing wasn’t around then was it. I found some food left out in a bowl on the floor so I ate it. It was there doing nothin’ so why let it go to waste?
Then I found were they kept that food so I opened the little door and got it out, I ate that food too but what’s wrong with that? I have to catch all my own food on my boat.
“Why bring a cat all the way from England,” the Mexican Immigration guy asked, “there’s already ten million cats in Mexico.” I explained that Mexican cats could only speak Mexican… which would be of no use to us at all because we only spoke English. He nodded and excepted my explanation before waving us away, worryingly unconcerned. Dave.
Neither of us can remember who made the original decision, I think it was me. It must have been me if I think about it now, because I suggested to both Marie and Henry that we should have a ship’s cat, one that was grey to match the colour theme of our boat. It was a joke of course, I never expected either of them to take it seriously… but you should never make jokes like this around a pair of dedicated cat lovers.
Almost immediately I was inundated with internet links to cuddly little grey kittens. Dozens of them from all around the UK, from Inverness in Scotland to someplace I’d never heard of way off in Cornwall. Before I could say ‘Yikes, here comes Officer Dibble’ both Marie and Henry singled out a really cute looking male down in Ramsgate, a harbour town on the south coast of England… a very nice little sea port but quite a long distance to travel. Henry argued that with Ramsgate being a harbour and close to the sea any cat from there would already have its sea legs, which was a vague argument in which I did see some logic. Marie disagreed entirely, but she just wanted to cuddle a little grey kitten sitting on her lap.
So off we travelled down to Ramsgate… just to take a look of course because I already knew this was a really stupid idea…
“It took a while to find her but there she was hiding under the dinghy. We had to drag her out by her tail to sign the papers but right now she’s legal, Nellie is now officially the ship’s cat. She’s complained about one or two things but nothing we can’t deal with and, despite what she tells you, Nellie’s been given her proper rights under international maritime law. She’s gonna be on the night watch most of the time in charge of vermin and stuff like that, she’s not being overly friendly just now but even so, all the signs are looking good.” Dave
Nelly Nelson, Nellie for short, is now all official and legal. We had some explaining to do on the documents about why she was first called Nelson, but when we took Nelson there for the snip the veterinary said it might be best if we called her Nellie. That might not seem important but she needs her own passport and stuff like that.
Nellie has been properly and correctly inducted into the ship’s crew. She’s filed complaints about a couple of things, about being abducted and forced against her will, being press-ganged when nowadays that’s not legal but we’re dealing with all of that. She eats her fill every day so things aren’t that bad.
Now that she’s crew she’s got her own crew list profile, even though she’s a cat it keeps things legal. You can check this out if you want to, especially if you’re one of those cat people.
Hello. I don’t know who you are but me, I’m called Nellie. That’s what they call me anyway. They used to call me Nelson but I went five times to see that funny lady wearing the white coat, now they all call me Nellie. I think I’m supposed to be the ship’s cat.
Well I don’t wanna be the ship’s cat. The ship’s too small and it stinks, it stinks all the time of them and sometimes I don’t even know what’s happening. The floor of this ship moves around too much and I slide around hitting things I’d really prefer to stay away from, like the table leg and other stupid things like that. Yesterday I tried to jump from the couch, then the ship moved the other way and I fell in a heap on the floor.
If you’re a cat and reading this then you seriously don’t want to be the ship’s cat. Let me tell you why you don’t want to be the ship’s cat…