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The Very Expensive Swim

Posted in: Featured, The Ships Cat on Wednesday, July 8th, 2015
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It was a normal night, eating dinner watching the telly. We hadn’t thought it odd that Fluffy wasn’t with us, as some of his favourite spots to curl up are at the stern of the boat where we can’t see him. Suddenly our neighbour Christine was racing down the dock towards Tygress calling my name in obvious distress. I got up on deck totally unaware of how drastically our night was about to change.

“I found him swimming in the water, I don’t think he’s going to make it” she said has she handed me a small, soaking and very limp bundle of fur.

“I don’t think he’s going to make it” Christine repeated as I was coming to the jarring relisation that the small, soaking and very limp bundle of fur was our precious boy. He’d gotten out while I was up having a shower and I didn’t even realise (we were to later learn that he had figured out he could climb the screen door). Christine’s concern was palpable and despite the whirlwind of emotions I was flung into it touched me that she was just as concerned for our boy as we were. She had saved him.

Christine had, through the sheer luck of being in the right place at the right time, heard splashing in the dark and went to grab a torch so she could see what it was. When she realised what was in the water,  it was her quick thinking and her quick actions that had saved him. He had barely enough strength left to climb the life buoy thrown to him. Had Christine not been outside doing her washing Fluff’s old body would have very soon tired, his little head dropping below the water more and more and he would’ve drowned a lonely death full of struggle and fear, in the dark. We’d never have seen him again. The thought is almost too much to bear.

“Ben, quick! He’s gone in, I think he’s going to die’ I called through the door as I fumbled for a towel in the cockpit. He’s so light and thin, oh my God he’s so limp. “We’ve got to get him to the vet now”. Ben dropped everything, nothing was turned off, the boat didn’t get closed up and Fluffy was bundled up in my arms and we raced through the marina to the car. It was the longest that walk has ever felt. It was long enough for the grief, the shock, the guilt and chest wracking sobs to hit. I was a wreck. I sobbed all the way to the vet, all the fear, shame, guilt and love came pouring out. Shame because how could we have not known he was in the water? How could we have not heard him? Guilt because we weren’t there to save him. Fear that we were going to lose him. So much fear.

It's a hard life!

It’s a hard life!

For some people pets are just that, pets, animals that they look after, feed and water and go through all the motions. But for the lucky ones, they’re so much more. They’re friends, our companions, furry parts of our hearts that run around outside our bodies. We are the lucky ones. Fluffy has been with us since just after Ben and I met and we knew forever was going to be a thing, that’s more than 13 years ago. There has only ever been three weeks of just Ben and Sarah because on the fourth week we brought him home from the RSPCA and everyday since we’ve woken to his furry face. I don’t know what it’s like to be us without him. And the fact that we might soon find out was terrifying.

We got to the vets just after another car pulled in and out jumped another woman with a bundled towel cradled in her arms. The desire to run to the door ahead of her was strong, but I resisted. The state I was in was all the staff needed to know and we were taken through immediately. I had to put him down on the bench, but I couldn’t let him go, they coaxed him away from me and pulled back the towel so they could have a look at him.  They took his temperature in a rather undignified manner, listened to his chest and got him wrapped up in something that might have been called a bear hug. Basically it’s just a piece of heated flexible piping they wrap him in. We were told he had hypothermia but was otherwise okay, no water on his lungs and a strong heartbeat. What followed was one of the worst experiences I’ve had as a pet parent at the vets. “How long was he in the water?” we’re not sure. “When did he go in the water?” we don’t know. “You didn’t know he was in the water?” we didn’t even know he was outside. They were necessary questions but boy did they really ram home the shame and guilt. More tears.

They kept him on fluids overnight and put him in a humidifier to bring his body temperature up.  They told us to go home and to call in two hours for an update but he should be fine. It was hard to leave him but he was already starting to behave more like himself. Tygress felt so empty when we got home without him. Cold dinners were left uneaten, the telly stayed off and we sat and worried about all the what ifs. What if he doesn’t come home? How can we live on this boat without him? What if it’s all my fault?. But when we phoned throughout the next 12 hours they told us that he was alert and very talkative and doing well for a cat his age that had gone through the ordeal that he did. We picked him up the following evening and never has a cat been more cuddled.

So what have we learnt from all of this? First, despite being over 19 years old he can still scale screen doors so we need to pull the companionway hatch lid closed fully when leaving the boat. The thrill night time exploration still calls to him. Second, we need to have something in the water for him to climb should this ever happen again, either a towel or a thick line. The thought of his terror while swimming around unable to get out makes me so sad. Third, how completely unprepared I am for losing him and just how lucky he is to be alive.  I don’t think Christine fully understands what a service she did for us that night and how deeply and forever grateful we are. To this day she still walks past looking to see him on deck and always asks after him when we see each other on the dock.

A few days after and he's sleeping blissfully on my yoga mat. Note the shaved little leg.

A few days after and he’s sleeping blissfully on my yoga mat. Note the shaved little leg.

 

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Different Survey, Different Day

Posted in: Buying, Featured on Wednesday, July 1st, 2015
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and a different boat!

If you’ve never bought a boat before then an important thing to do before signing on the dotted line is to have a pre-purchase survey done. It’s a comprehensive examination of all areas of the boat, both above the waterline and below and is undertaken by qualified surveyor. For our survey on Runaway Moon we used Barry Colson, we had been very happy with his service during Tygress’s insurance survey last year and we felt we could trust his assessment of the vessel.

We woke at our version of ‘early’ which is a very civilised 8 o’clock and had some coffee while waiting for our broker Detlef and Barry to arrive.

It gave us time to think on the differences this survey day compared with our survey day for Tygress.

For a start we woke only two berths down on our own boat that we’ve lived happily on for over three years, last time we traveled across Brisbane to be here. Secondly, with Tygress, we went through the whole sale and survey process without ever meeting the owner.  This time with Runaway Moon we were very lucky to have Alan with us and available to answer any questions Barry had about onboard systems.

But I think the most important difference this time is that we’re boaties, boats are our thing and it’s second nature to be around them. We know a bit more about them and what it’s like to live on one. Last survey day we knew hardly anything about them except that we wanted one. And we got one.

Then we got another one.

Detlef and Barry arrived and spent about 1 1/2 hours going over Runaway in her berth, then she was moved to the marina’s travel lift so she could be hauled out. While Detlef and Alan moved the boat we walked back with Barry and were so heartened when he gave a glowing opinion of Runaway. We learnt that her fiberglass hull had been hand laid and as a result was incredibly strong and well made. A big relief to know as moving away from the strength steel was causing mild anxiety.  We learnt that Barry thought she was an exceptionally good little boat for her age and price, one of the best boats he’d inspected.

Watching a boat being hauled out and rolled back over land is always a bit nerve wracking but under Alan’s watchful eye the marina crew did a great job and got her lifted safely. Then comes the next uncomfortable bit, watching Barry bash all over the hull with his hammer checking it’s integrity and listening for any change in sound his thumps produce.

Barry inspecting hull

There was some small blister repairs but other than that she was in really good condition.  Back in the water and off for a sea trial in conditions that could be best described as flat.

We didn’t care though, this was our first experience with Runaway in motion and it was lovely. She has a full keel and hydraulic steering so she handles differently to Tygress but she handles well. There wasn’t much wind but we got the sails up which is always a magical experience and we floated very slowly around the bay. Too soon our time was up and we headed back in and the survey day was over. The day had left us buoyed and excited and ready to sign on the dotted line.

 

Don't we look happy?

Don’t we look happy?

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