The three of us shared the bounty of the sea with equal gusto. She was particularly fond of fresh crab, shrimp, and lobster, and would look at me with disgust when I hauled in an empty fishing line.
We also shared the hardships of the sea. Diana has the cast iron stomach of a Kiwi. Not so with the Canadian and the Yankee onboard. Too many times Halifax and I lay seasick together on the cabin sole, wondering if it was worth it. Then a new horizon would loom, and we both knew it certainly was.
She knew the rhythm of my rowing and the particular sound of our outboard. For 15 years, no matter the darkness, wind or rain, every time Diana and I returned to the Roger Henry, Halifax would be perched on the toe-rail waiting. She would give one howl of protest at our long absence and then relent into a homecoming purr.
We are sailing through Prince William Sound now. I would usually be absorbed with the magnificent sailing and scenery. But my mind keeps returning to one line in that silly little poem-- Halifax my cat... Oh a finer companion could not be.