Poor Lily Winston Churchill. If the past summer was sucky for us without a boat, it was tragically boring for Lily.

Weekends that would normally be spent clambering around the decks in search of bugs, being mesmerized by the shifting water and exploring the boat’s nooks and crannies were instead spent staring out from the relative boredom of the small deck off the living room of our townhouse.

Lily is an indoor cat—that pains me, though I know it’s probably best for her—and she’s been cooped up for most of the past six months. No marinas, no squawking seagulls, no sunning atop the dodger.

As our ersatz child (we have none of the human variety), Lily is loved and indulged to a degree that better disciplinarians would consider ridiculous. Still, I can’t help but feel bad about depriving her of a particularly gorgeous summer worth of boating experiences. As I worked indoors all summer, she lolled about the house, occasionally climbing on my lap to demand attention and spending afternoons rotating from one nap spot to another.

My vague sense of guilt (notice a theme here?) got me thinking maybe we could bring Lily along with us when we head down to Mexico next month to sail our boat and prepare it to be trucked north. We’re renting a car to drive from Tucson down to San Carlos, so it’d be easy to bring her on that leg of the trip.

She’d love to be on the boat for the 10 days or so we sail it on the Sea of Cortez. She’d be in kitty nirvana. I’m convinced she likes being on a boat better than just about anywhere, including at home. The rest of the time, while we’re decommissioning the boat and taking apart the rigging, she could hang out in our hotel room.

Being on a sailboat is infinitely more interesting.

I wouldn’t typically think taking a cat on vacation is a good idea, but Lily Winston Churchill is no typical cat. She’s outgoing and adventurous, happy to climb into her carrier and settle in for road trips. She’s not easily unnerved by new surroundings. More than once I’ve seen her face down a dog on its own territory until the poor thing finally slunk away in defeat.

And truth be told, my motives weren’t entirely unselfish. I don’t want to leave her at home because, well, I’d miss the little fluffball something awful.

After thinking it through, it didn’t seem that crazy of an idea after all. People travel with their pets all the time, right? And celebrities like Paris Hilton and Britney Spears are forever carting their Lilliputian dogs around in cutesy bags like the accessory du jour. (That’s not to suggest Paris Hilton should be held up as an example of appropriate behavior of any type, of course, but people take dogs all manner of places, so perhaps taking a cat on vacation is perfectly reasonable.)

That just left the flight. I’ve heard horror stories about pets sedated for flights and traveling in cargo holds, emerging glassy-eyed and traumatized upon arrival. Lily would travel in a cargo hold over my dead body. I hoped there was another option. I checked American Airlines’ pet travel policy and discovered that the airline allows up to seven carry-on kennels per flight. We’d have to get a slightly smaller carrier to meet the size limits and pay a $100 fee.

I made a note to check with the Mexican consulate about any possible restrictions and make sure there wasn’t a quarantine requirement upon our return to the U.S. Then I happily fired off an email to Marty, who was out of town, to inform him of my genius plan. He emailed back and tactfully ignored my suggestion, which I rightly took as a bad sign.

Crab cakes or crab louis for dinner? Lily partakes in our briny bounty.

If there’s one characteristic that defines Marty, it’s pragmatism. He’s practical to a degree I usually appreciate but occasionally find maddening. Marty always has a plan, a process, a specific way of doing things that’s the most efficient and causes the least hassle. I wing it occasionally, but not Marty. He operates with precision and intent, always thinking a few steps ahead. He’s a consummate strategic thinker. He’d make a good spy.

Taking Lily to Mexico, to him, seemed an absurd idea. He pointed out all the gear we’ll be carting with us—foul weather gear, tools, bedding—and said it makes no sense to add a cat to the mix.

“If it were an easy trip, fine. But this is not an easy trip to begin with. It’s a logistical pain in the ass,” he said.

Strike one.

“What are we going to do with her while we’re tearing the boat apart for two or three days—leave her alone in a hotel room while the maid comes and goes?”

I ignored that.

“She’s going to jump off the boat and run away,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. She’s never run away before. She’s not stupid; she knows how good she has it.

And then he struck a low blow, appealing to my basest fears. “You worry about somebody stealing her out of the car. You don’t know what’s going to happen in Mexico,” he said. “I don’t want to worry about the cat getting ripped off.”

Damn. He had me there. What if she did somehow get away? She’s fitted with an ID microchip, but I doubted that would get her safely returned to us in a foreign country.

In the end, pragmatism—that goody two shoes, that irritating snuffer of spontaneity—won out. Obviously, the pleasure of taking Lily along isn’t worth the risk of her getting lost or stolen. So off she’ll go to the in-laws’ place, where she’ll take over the house, tearing up and down the stairs and lounging on my mother-in-law’s immaculate, mid-century modern furniture. If she misbehaves, they’ll probably be too polite to say.

We’ll make it up to her with plenty of winter sailing over the next few months. When summer rolls around again we’ll take her out for sunny weekends spent at anchor, crabbing and exploring new destinations. She’ll spend much of the summer outdoors and I won’t have to watch her gazing longingly at the world beyond her doorstep, her adventurousness quashed by my sense of responsibility.

In the meantime, I’ll treat her to a little tuna and try not to feel too guilty.

About Deborah Bach

Deborah Bach is the editor and co-founder of Three Sheets Northwest. She is an avid sailor and long-time professional journalist. You can find Deborah aboard Three Sheets, an Island Packet 38, with her husband Marty and their cat Lily.

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