The Case of the Missing Mouthguard

        We rely on Theo to keep order at home. He is the oldest of our three cats. In the beginning, Theo was not overly fond of Mico and Sienna. They arrived with some strong feral tendencies. Theo saw them as intruders on his space, his home.

      Theo was tutored by Chuck, the original rascal cat. But he had to establish his own identity. The title "gangster cat" is no accident. He proved he was more than capable of dealing with the two wild ones.

      

 

         Case in point--it is early, very early in the morning. Dan wakes up. It is still dark in our bedroom. Without thinking too much about it (and this is where he makes his BIG MISTAKE), he removes his professionally designed mouthguard and attempts to put it on the nightstand.

       He misses. The mouthguard falls to the floor. We hear it clatter on the hard wooden surface. 

       "Darn it." He reaches down to retrieve it. He feels around where he knows it fell. Gone. Vanished.

        Later we calculate that, perhaps, two seconds elapsed before he reached down for the mouthguard. Two seconds.

        We look everywhere. Lights are turned on. We're on our hands and knees looking under the bed, under the dresser, under the blankets even, doubting now whether we heard a clatter at all.

         An ugly thought pops into our collective consciousness. Michelangelo. Mico took it.

         But how is that possible?

         Slowly, we piece together what must have happened--Mico was under the bed (sleeping in the cat bed). He must have heard the clatter, immediately thought "I'm getting a new toy" and absconded with the mouthguard. 

         Eww. In his mouth. Geez.

         Now, the search expands--a full house search is initiated. First stop includes a thorough search of the guest room across the hall--under the bed--but no mouthguard.

         Time elapses. "We'll never find it," Dan mutters, clearly discouraged.

          We ask Sienna, Mico's sister, but she offers up no new information. 

         But, who wanders in--looking for breakfast. No, not Mico. Theo.

         "Hey, buddy. We need your help."

         A deal is offered--Theo will look for and hopefully find the mouthguard. We'll go downstairs immediately and make him a delicious breakfast.

        Theo hesitates.

        "And," I quickly add, "I'll give you a snack right this minute."

        Theo agrees. (I would have eventually offered the entire bag of Science Diet dried cat food if I had to.) 

        We start to tell Theo where we've already looked, but he's not interested. He eats his snack in one gulp and walks out into the hallway where he proceeds to groom. 

         "Look." I point at Theo with an accusatory finger. "The gangster cat is taking his own sweet time finding your mouthguard."

         "I think we've been scammed," Dan says. "He has no intention . . ."

         But we're wrong. Theo goes to the landing, looks down at the stairs that connect to the first floor, and starts going down. I'm about to call his name, when he stops, leans over and starts coming back up the stairs, carrying the gooey clear-colored mouthguard in his mouth. He drops it unceremoniously on the floor in front of us and saunters off. 

          We have two reactions. One--we're darned glad to have the mouthguard back. Two--we think Theo knew where that darned mouthguard was all the time.  

           But a deal is a deal. A magnificent breakfast is served. After all, he solved The Case of the Missing Mouthguard. And, of course, Mico is nowhere to be found.

The Allure of Fish

      I've had enough of Admiral Horatio Nelson, naval man extraordinaire. But Dan has promised Theo we will see more. Leaving Shirley Heights, we journey down to where the harbor sits, to the town that was built to provide for the needs of the military that were stationed there. 

        Today, the town's been revitalized to serve a more modern purpose--stores for shopping and restaurants for eating. But, if you can ignore the hustling and bustling tourists, you can glimpse a world that existed 200 years ago. And, maybe, see some fish.

      "Imagine," Dan says to Theo, "that you were a cat 200 years ago. No cat food from cans. No such thing as Fancy Feast or Science Diet."

       Theo frowns. He doesn't like imagining that scenario. 

       "But there would have been a lot of fish," I reassure him. 

        Theo loves fish--any kind of fish (tuna, scallops, shrimp, white fish), and so he becomes an enthusiastic participant. The tour begins with a stop at a small two story building with light blue shutters. It is on the way to the water, where the fish and boats are. I'm excited. I like boats. Theo, of course, likes fish.

         "This store sells fish," I announce. 

          Theo thinks I mean real fish, the kind you can eat.  So he is raring to go inside and feast. Unfortunately for him, the fish inside this store are beautifully carved wooden fish, like the ones attached to the front of the building.

 

         Strike One--but still undeterred, Theo marches on. 

         We pass a brick building, which in years past housed the master shipwright, the guy who made all the repairs to the ships in the harbor. He was a highly skilled laborer. 

         Theo asks, "Are there any fish inside?" 

       Strike Two--and Theo cat walks a little slower.

          We pass the Joiner's Loft and Boathouse--which both housed the joiners and gave them a place to work. 

         

        Dan explains, "A joiner is like a carpenter, but a carpenter builds things out of wood and a joiner's main job is to connect wooden pieces without using fasteners, nails, screws or glue. They seamlessly join pieces together using the groove cuts they make. Nowadays," he adds, "a joiner is like a framer."

        Theo listens, squinches up his face, and says only one word, "Fish." Sadly I shake my head. "Not yet. But soon."

         We then move to a beautiful white clapboard house with light blue shutters. Two stories. This is where the naval captain lived with his clerk. It was one of the last homes to be built here in town.

       

         We come to the Copper and Lumber Store, a massive warehouse building with three foot thick walls, which stored copper sheets used to cover vessel hulls. An inner courtyard is open and provides ventilation to the wood stored. The seamen who worked  there slept in the upper story in hammocks. Before Theo has a chance to ask, I tell him, "No fish."

        

       

       The problem is you can smell the salt water and fish. Even I can smell it. Theo is sniffing the air, gazing in the direction of the harbor. 

        I whisper to Dan, "Keep an eye on him. He smells the fish. I think he's going to make a run for it."

       Finally, we are standing in front of the Officer's Quarters, where Royal Naval Officers who were waiting for repairs to their ships were housed. Interestingly, on the ground floor, there were twelve large cisterns holding a total of 240,000 gallons of water, which was collected from the roof. 

       Theo doesn't care. If the cisterns held fish, that might be a different story. But water? He can hardly keep his attention on the building in front of him. 

  

         

         

           

       We try to distract him by pointing out the cannon that is sitting a few feet in front of us. 

      

       We turn to head back, but Theo refuses to move. 

       "What do you think--I can conjure up fish with a magic spell?"

       When Theo wants something, he can let loose the most plaintive, sorrowful cry. It breaks your heart and compels you to do the impossible. 

        "All right. We'll see what we can do."

         He doesn't move.

         "We'll go down to the harbor right now," Dan says.

         Theo's ears perk up, and then he follows his nose. We have to half run to keep up with him. 

         "We're in big trouble," Dan says. "He's going to be expecting fish."

          Let's just say I'm smarter than the average bear. I smile.

          We reach the harbor area and Theo has stopped. We catch up to him.

          For once I'm prepared. I pull out a can of tuna with one of those pull off tops. 

          "Wow. I'm impressed," Dan says. "You outdid yourself this time."

            "Yeah, I figured tuna might come in handy. Or we'd be stuck down at the pier fishing."

            Anything for the gangster cat!

Theo Gets Blown Away

           We are on our way to see an historical landmark. Mostly for Theo, who for some unexplained reason, has taken a liking to Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson, the greatest officer in the history of Britain's Royal Navy. He was a HERO during the same time as when Napoleon rampaged around Europe, and Nelson was sent to Antigua for three years to enforce British laws.

         "This harbor is famous," Dan says, "I don't blame Theo for wanting to see it."

       

  

          I have my doubts, but I don't say anything.

          "There's a lot to see," Dan adds. "A great view. Old military buildings. Officer's quarters . . ."

        

      

      I like great views, but these ruins are still under reconstruction. It's hard for me to imagine the way they used to be. 

        Unfortunately, Dan fails to mention the most important point. It's windy up there on the Heights. Not just a little windy. It feels like you're standing in the middle of a maelstrom. 

          After we pose, I begin to be afraid my camera will get blown out of my hand. Or if I get to close to the edge, I'll get blown down, down, down to the cliff and then topple over. 

          Then, I begin to fear for Theo.

          He is a gangster cat, no doubt about it, and he's not easily shaken. But his curiosity has drawn him forward. He is standing there, and even though all four paws on the ground, his body is being rocked from right to left. Luckily the wind is blowing towards us, so we're not in danger of being swept off the edge and then downward to our death. 

          "Don't go any closer," I warn Theo. "It's too dangerous." 

           He doesn't hear me. Or he can't hear me because my voice is being pushed back into my throat. My eyes are watering. 

           Theo moves forward, getting way too close to the edge. He is too busy sniffing. Dan is standing next to him, in full blown lecture mode:

           "Admiral Nelson's commission means he's in charge of this very English Harbor, in St. Paul Parish, a harbor which served as a safe way to wait out hurricanes, ideal because it has deep waters close to shore. Nelson is also there to maintain (repair, replenish) Royal Navy warships that captured valuable sugar islands in the Eastern Caribbean. The British do this in order to cut off enemy trade and increase their wealth."

         All of this happened decades ago, but Theo doesn't have a good sense of time. He's listening intently as he's being buffeted about on the highest point--Shirley Heights, a military post built by the British. 

         It's clear where the wind is coming from, but I begin to panic. What if the wind switches direction? Even for a second. Theo will have no chance at all. He will be blown off the cliff. He only weighs 10 pounds. 

          "Admiral Nelson is a true war hero. He has a series of remarkable victories. He is a great strategist. Finally, he's killed at the Battle of Trafalgar. Before that, he looses an arm in battle. It's shattered with grapeshot. It has to be amputated."

         Too much information, I think, but Theo is lapping up every morsel.

          Suddenly, the wind pauses. Oh, no. This is it. The wind is about to shift. Theo, who is perched there as still as a statue (even though his fur is standing on edge) is jostled off balance. I'm about to leap forward and save Theo from impending doom. I see him being blown away, disappearing off the cliff.

          But I'm too late.

          Dan leans over and scoops him in his arms, then turns to me. 

          "Are you okay?" he asks. 

          I compose my face. "Very interesting about Admiral Nelson."

          "Great view," Dan says as he and Theo, together safely look at it just one more time. 

          He's right. It is a great view. 

           

           

            

          

Theo and Palm Tree Mania

        Don't ask me to explain, but in Antigua I discover that Theo has a fascination with palm trees. I like to look at them, watch them sway gently in the breeze, and sometimes imagine I live in a place full time surrounded by these wonderful trees. Theo likes to climb them.

      Of course, he denies that, but its clear that Theo's interest in the trees has more to do than with looking or sniffing. I decide early on to nip this in the bud.

      "Climbing palm trees is illegal," I tell him. 

       He looks at me skeptically. And, of course, it's a hard case to make. How else--if not by climbing the tree--would you be able to get the coconuts and dates? He doesn't ask that question, but I see the squint in his eye and almost hear his thoughts as we're strolling along near the villa. We are exactly passing what I now unofficially call "palm tree alley." A row of palm trees greet us as we step out of our villa every morning.

        I shoot Theo the "evil eye"--stay away from those palms. 

        Theo pretends he's not even interested. He's sniffing the air and enjoying the abundant sunshine. But I'm eternally suspicious.

         Dan says, "Now look over there. This is an example of a coconut palm. In Antigua, since 2012, thousands of coconut palms have been destroyed by a lethal yellowing. But the island took action and began a restoration project--replanting 1,000 new trees."

         Theo casually glances over at the coconut palm.

          "And over here," Dan continues, " is the date palm tree. They're very common in northern Antigua (where we are). The date palm was introduced in the 18th century. The Antiguans call this palm tree Nega Oil."

          Theo casually glances over at the date palm.

           So far, so good. We're on our way to the game room to play ping pong, and my plan is to keep Theo moving along. For a moment, I almost think I'm wrong about him. Maybe he does get the message. 

           "See, look here Theo." Dan points to the luscious dates that are hanging from the date palm. I have to admit I've never seen a date palm in person before, so I step closer to take a good look. 

            Later, I realize that Dan's pointing and my stepping closer sends the wrong message. Theo, who seemingly is uninterested, meanders towards the date palm. He begins to sniff the bottom of the tree. 

            I have a flashback. Two years ago when we were in North Carolina, visiting a conservatory with a palm tree, Chuck got too close to the palm and before I knew what was happening, he was climbing upward. 

           I gulp. Chuck was twelve years old by then. Theo is three years old. Chuck had a bucket list. Theo doesn't even know what a bucket list is. 

           But isn't Theo spending too much time sniffing the bottom of this palm tree? He turns around briefly but avoids eye contact with me. Then, in a burst of energy, he shoots up like an arrow headed towards its intended target. 

           "Theo."

           "Look at that kid climb," Dan says in admiration. 

           "I knew he was going to do something dangerous."

            "Oh, he'll be okay. Take a photo. No one will believe this.

Hell, I don't even believe it."

             My hand is shaking as I retrieve my iPhone, find the camera icon, try to focus on his fast moving body and click. 

             Theo, in a flash of sanity, shimmies back down. Exactly the same way Chuck did. His little back legs are spread apart with his back claws firmly entrenched in the tree. He holds on for dear life then jumps down when he's about a foot off the ground.

             "Theo, you're in big trouble."

             "I did what I had to do. See?" he says defiantly.

              What is this about cats? They are so independent. You'd never catch a dog climbing a palm tree!

              "Let me see the photo," Dan says.

               But there is nothing to see. A big blur. That's all I was able to get. Later, of course, Theo half denies having ever climbed that palm tree. 

               "I wanted to climb it," he admits, ". . . but--"

               "But I said it was illegal."

               "Yeah."

               Palm tree mania. I have it, and Theo does, too. 

               "Was it the dates?" I prod. "Is that why you went up there?"

                Theo says nothing--a shrug--but if I'm honest, and if I were a cat, I would have done the same thing.