You've Come a Long Way
by

Humphrey
(Humphrey is a Scottie Dog)

When The Master bought WHISPER he was well aware of the pitfalls that await new captains. He had often enough watched as others went through the scripted tragedy...

Scene 1:
Captain, his high pitched voice revealing newfound stress, is at the helm, impatiently dispensing orders. First Mate runs around pulling the wrong lines, putting out fenders in the wrong place, not pushing off colliding yachts with sufficient dexterity, and generally needing to be corrected.

Scene 2:
Brisk breeze. The Boat is heeled over 45 degrees. Captain at the helm. A manic smile is playing across his lips. He announces to a terrorized about-to-be-ex First Mate, "Don't worry. It can't tip"

Scene 3:
The Captain: "Let's go sailing."
Ex First Mate: "You go by yourself."

The Master was determined to avoid this scenario; but fate can be very persistent.

The Master, The Mistress, Harrison (my cousbro) and I were coming towards the dock from our first trip out. The day had been carefully picked to be as pleasant an occasion as possible; and so it was an overcast blustery and bitter cold day in February. The Mistress, having limited background with mid winter boating (none), was wearing toque, scarf, wool pants, hiking boots and many layers of goosedown. She was determined to make The Master proud of her seapersonship and took up position on the bow with a line for tying the yacht up. The Master incorrectly assumed that she would throw the line to the fellow standing on the dock with his hand outstretched in her direction. When will he learn to not make assumptions?

The Mistress, motivated by a spirit of exuberant cooperation leaped - yes, I said 'leaped' - towards - yes, I said 'towards' - the dock. So far it sounds ok. Foolhardy, perhaps, but ok.

At this point the scene before my eyes went into slow motion. I see a rope. The rope is wound around her ankle. The Mistress is in mid flight. The line around her ankle tightens. Her head goes forward. Her feet go up. Her shoulders go down...

I can't go on.

It took two months of physiotherapy before the pains subsided. Not a successful start to our lives' boating season.

The Master is a very convincing fellow; so in due course the Mistress was ready to give the boat another go. Boats are not dangerous. Like guns, they are perfectly safe. You just have to know what you are doing, that's all. Got it? Right.

At this point it will be necessary for me to provide just a little background explanation for what follows.

The sun rises and sets on my cousbro Harrison. He is loved. He is doted upon. He is coddled and protected. There is only one thing that could be worse than the Earth being struck by a meteorite and man and dogkind being wiped out... and that is if any harm, however insignificant, comes to Harrison.

One more detail is needed before we proceed. Harrison had a ball. An orange coloured soccer ball. Harrison loved his orange soccer ball and chased it constantly around the yard. There are three important phrases here "no harm to Harrison", "orange ball" and "chase".

Now back to my narrative.

WHISPER, a 15 knot breeze on her tail, was foaming into the harbour, again on a cold and winter-like day (The Master always picks suitable days to go boating). The Mistress, out for her first sail after 'the accident', was sitting in the cockpit suppressing an intense desire to be home in a hot bath. Harrison's and my claws were only partly successful at keeping us from sliding on the fiber glass seat. Harrison was surveying the scene over the rail when we passed a crab trap. The crab trap was identified by an ... orange ball.

Visualize the neurons associated with "orange ball" and "chase" in Harrison's little dog brain locking into phase. Psychologists call this phenomenon "operand conditioning". It was first formally described by a Russian named Pavlov.

Despite not being Russian (he's a Scottie), Harrison let out a yelp - and went over the side.

The Mistress turned to The Master and calmly made some some remark along the lines of... "The dog seems to be in the water, dear. Do you mind turning around and picking him up? Please."

Admittedly these were not her precise words.

The truth is that Harrison's encounter and subsequent retrieval from the frigid waters of Ganges Harbour did not increase The Mistress' enthusiasm for sailing. It took a long time and much patience before she could place sufficient confidence in WHISPER and The Master to enjoy boating.

But, you know, last July on the Maple Bay cruise, there was an impressive storm. Not only did we have really gusty wind and chop, but we had the largest streaks of lightning I've seen for some time. As we rounded Beaver Point, there were reports of water spouts in Haro Straight. Harrison and I had our claws dug into the fiberglass seats. The Mistress, her Southwester securely tied around her chin, a portrait of confidence, was at the helm. It was great.

You've come a long way.....