Did you know I used to live on a sailboat? Not just live there, I was the First Mate. I still hold that title, by the way. The moment my mom and dad get another boat, I’ll be back on duty, patrolling the decks like the professional I am.
We lived aboard for a whole year, and I loved it. Every morning at anchor, I waited, sometimes impatiently, for Mom or Dad to open the companionway doors so I could run outside and begin my daily rounds. All day patrol. Full perimeter check. Zero birds allowed. And I was good at my job. You’re welcome.
I love sailing. The wind in my fur, the smell of the ocean, the sun on my back. Whenever we were under sail, I wore my life jacket and sat in the cockpit with Mom. Safety first. Even First Mates follow the rules, well, the only rule: “Stay on the boat.” Dad says that applies to everyone, people and Shepherds alike. The rule was only broken once, but I will tell that story another day.
Out on the water, I met some very cool guys called dolphins. They’d swim along beside us when we were sailing and sometimes swing by when we were anchored. I liked them a lot. One of them, a big friendly fellow with a scar on his fin, became my best ocean friend. Mom called him Al because of something to do with a gangster movie. I don’t get it, but I liked calling him Al too. He visited almost every day, and he was the only one I allowed near our boat. I had a job to do. A Shepherd’s duties are very important, and security is no joke. Cute face, serious skills.
People think living on a sailboat is all relaxing breezes and pretty sunsets, but let me tell you, the First Mate works hard. I supervised Dad while he cleaned the deck with that broom brush thing. I supervised him again when he filled the water tanks. And again when he fixed, well, whatever was broken that day. Because there is always something broken on a boat. Always.
Mom worked during the day, so Dad and I handled all the errands and supply runs. It was hot in Florida and all the places we traveled, so it was thirsty work. Sometimes I had to take naps, but mostly I stayed busy with my security detail. Boats to watch. People to assess. Perimeters to secure. You know the drill.
Our friends loved visiting, but it was pretty funny watching them jump back when I gave them my “Not so fast” bark. Mom and Dad always had to say, “It’s OK Karl” before I would stand down. I take my job seriously. Someone has to.
Those were good days, the sea, the breeze, my family, my duties, and my friend Al popping up beside the boat like, “Hey Karl, you on patrol?” I always was.
And I always will be.
