Make no mistake, having cats on board is something of a hassle. Now that our dinghy is gone, I float a bucket of sand, i.e., cat litter, in a lifesaver ring back from the beach, panicking slightly as it takes on water and threatens to capsize, since the bucket also contains stuff like our camera, sunglasses, maybe random things like plastic trash I collected on the beach and am now beginning a multi-stage process of (hopefully) disposing of properly. Honestly, the cats don't get on that well. Ivy, the newcomer, has taken to ambushing Daisy by bombing unexpectedly through portholes, earning her the nickname of the turd from space. (Phrasing by Adam.) I wake to dawn hisses. They insist on eating different meals. But all told it may be worth it to have pets on board, despite the mess, occasional conflict, and underway worry they bring--they are soft and furry but also, gentle reminders to avoid getting too anal, as it were, to embrace life's disorder and the constant of cruising, which is who the frack knows what you'll be doing next, a great gift I have taken with me out into the rest of life. These two cats came into our lives opportunistic, bearing out the idea that long ago in Egypt, they self domesticated. Clearly, this life suits them, and anyway, they make me laugh.