Ahoy, Mateys, we be doin our best ta honor our pirate shipcat ancestors this day! And since some of us may resemble the lubbers list of those still wanted fer a brief visit to the hemp halter, we will keep our images hidden this morn of a red sun... So we are channelling our shipcat ancestors today (Scatter The Crazy, Little-Chiller, Yayla The Backclawer, IzBerserk, and Lazuli The Gem:
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We are assembled on the good ship MousiePain fer our annual beaching ta the caching place fer ta hide more booty afore headin inta port where the lubber taxers (worse than us scalliwags, as they risk not life nor limb of our efforts ta free wealthy merchants of their ill-gotten gold).
The first moments off-ship are awkward. It takes a wee bit of grog ta lose our sea legs an stand on the unmoving deck land. We get landsick at first, missin the calm movements of the waves. We can dance on the shiftin decks but fall on a floor...
But there be fresh foods aport. Cackle eggs, fresh beef, meat pies!
And there we fancy ourselves sharing Nip with the Hands an bein a bit free with the most adventuress of the womancats, til our pieces o' eight run out and the Cap'n comes round ta scurry us back ta the ship saying "all hands hoay". Too little fun ashore an ya regret the missed gambols fer months; too much an its the brig fer a week or even a keelhaulin iffen ya sliced some lubber fer purrfectly good reasons...
Tis a fine line we walk ashore. Little time ta find the places that sell the pretty gawkles the smiths make from our gold and silver. But the cost... The smiths hornswaggle us cruelly. And they call US thieves! Arrr, there be no help fer it, by yer leave.
We must have the gawkles fer our own personal and matey's admiration on the next adventure (we old seadogs do like ta show off our stuff, and for the next port where the designs are new to the local bawdies and get us more than we gave.
An sometimes we "run a rig" on the smiths and other lubber traders in return. A bit of confusion in the shop caused by one matey results in a "slight shift of ownership" of a geegaw or gawkle into a deep hidden pocket of one of us...
Back aboard ship, there is work ta be done. Most of it is work we do asea, but sometimes it does take lubbers. They be the ones havin the trees an we do need those and the tools to shape them... We hands all glom basic wood-stuff but a cracked mast needs lubber work. So it's a few days being lubber-like workers again doin the liftin and hard stuff.
If a mast is broken, it be a fortnight in port. Cap'n dares not let us off-board, so the meanest mates are set around the rails with guns. So little chance of leaving. If it is barely damaged, the lubbers "sister" the mast, putting large timbers around the weak spot bolted through.
I depends on how profitable our recent adventure went. A good time "visitin" the merchant ships means a new mast; a poor one means just "sister-repairs. Arr, those be weaker and risk us more in storms, so we fight hard ta get enough each encounter to keep the ship in fine fightin shape, ya know. We doesnt go out ta the sea ta die, ya know...
There be cases when a cheap Cap'n (they be greater riskers than Hands, bein gettin the more share of profit) and there be a mutiny to choose another of us we trust better ta the safety of the ship. Bad Cap'ns send us ta Davey Jones Locker in weak ships; Good Cap'ns sail us on sturdy ships and provide decent foods (kibbles AND cans). And Nip once a week...
Bad Cap'ns get keelhauled and mebbe we are sometimes slow ta pull them across the barnacles. Good Capn's get rewarded with obedience and trust and "Aye-Aye Sir".
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We return the post to ourselfs now. Wow, that was a weird expreience in remembering how our Pirate Shipcat ancestors lived. And how oddly they resembled we The Mews in name. Strange how that can happen.
We look forward to other Meow Like A Pirate Day posts...
