The ocean got Halcyon on Opening Day.
July 1, we had our gear in the water by 3:30. Five miles offshore, it was windy that morning. Choppy seas, wet air, visibility less than a mile, everything steely gray. When the first fish of the season hit the deck, Hal was ready. He pranced across the deck, tail straight up happy, & sat under the fish table in expectation. I tossed him some head cut nubbins; he yummed them right up. He looked so pleased with himself, jumping back into his basket on top of the deck freezer.
It was 5:20 when we put the first fish down. I climbed down into the hold, giving Hal a reassuring smile. Seeing his monkeys disappear into the freezer always freaked him out. Joel handed the fish down to me. He went back into the cabin. I glanced around the hold, decided it was too cold to do anything else down there. I came back up & hosed off the fish table. The simplest series of events that took less than a minute, before I glanced forward & realized Hal wasn’t in his basket anymore.
This wasn’t the first time we’d had to look for Hal. I spent his previous two seasons constantly monitoring his whereabouts, leaping up from every coffee break to clarify where the cat was. He was always there, somewhere. So we started by checking all his usual spots on deck. The bow & roof where he’s not supposed to be. The cabin, the foc’s’le, under our bunk. He wasn’t anywhere.
We didn’t see him go over. We didn’t hear anything. By the time we realized he was gone & got turned around, how long had our boy already been in 54 degree water?
Too long.
Joel drove us back down our tack. I stood on the bow with binoculars & scanned the chop. How do you find a small cat in a big, unruly ocean? It seemed so impossibly unlikely… But we kept looking. And looking. Until, off the starboard, I caught the briefest glimpse of something other than gray between the swells.
Joel cranked the wheel hard over. I grabbed the dip net & ran to the mid-ship rail, just in time to see that lifeless orange body in blue adventure coat float past, 20 feet beyond my reach.
We turned around to make another pass. We didn’t find him again.
We pulled our gear a few hours later, useless with disbelief & grief. We spent the rest of Opening Day running – not to any hot bite, just away, away from the scene of loss & the dreadful fear of seeing his body drift past in the waves.
This opening’s kings will be salty. We sobbed through the following days, going through the motions of our work, tears falling into salmon bellies.
“It’s just a cat.” Some folks aren’t pet people, I get that. And I know some of you, fisher-friends, are haunted by the crewmates who slipped through your fingers. But this cat was our boy, & there’s no grief without guilt. Why didn’t I shoo him into the cabin as we handed the fish down? How did we not see him go over? Why didn’t we turn around sooner? How could we leave him out there? I hate thinking of our fleetmates encountering his body, as if he’d been carelessly discarded, unloved.
Every spring, stocking the Nerka for the coming season, I consider my attachments. Don’t take anything to sea that you’re not willing to lose. Picturing the wave that tosses the dish rack across the cabin, I leave a favorite coffee cup on land. Then we untie the lines, heading out with our most dearly beloveds. What am I willing to lose?
One of Hal’s friends, a veterinarian who is also a fisherman, offered this grace: “I truly believe he had a more incredible kitty life with you guys, doing his adventures, than the average cat.” True fact: Hal was relentless in his quest for adventures. With time, I can mostly accept our friend’s offering. I just can’t get past how brief his life was, or how fucking terrible of a death. It was our job to keep him safe.
Hard as his death is, it’s just as painful recalling the final months of Hal’s life. We spent too much time complaining that he wasn’t a cuddler, failing to appreciate who he was, exactly as he was.
This is who Halcyon was:
Born in Tacoma on August 18, 2018, Hal joined Team Nerka when he was 10 weeks old. 2018 was a rough time. Gazing at that blazing ball of orange fluff in Joel’s palms, we saw our halcyon, the mythical creature bringing hope to mariners. For too short of a time, he did just that.
Summiting our legs & extension ladders, Hal was a climber, always wanting to go higher, see more. It was impossible to keep him off the counters; we gave up trying. He was indifferent to humans (“Not real into people, is he?” a vet observed last winter) but had admirers everywhere he went. And he did go everywhere: packed into the car for road trips near & far, Hal loved car rides, being in motion. He went to FisherPoets & on ski trips. We couldn’t take him on enough walks. (Why didn’t we take him on more walks?) Hearing the magic words – Hang on, gotta put your adventure coat on – he’d stand patiently to get buckled into his harness, leash snapped on. Then we’d go exploring. His tail was never higher than when he got to lead the way. He’d march through snow until he shivered & we intervened, That’s enough, time to go back inside. He had a near-shockingly poor sense of self-preservation. He was a looker, the most photogenic of all of us. Such a pretty boy, yet smart enough to unscrew the treat jar & understand how doors worked. (He tried desperately to let himself out, hanging from the handles. If they weren’t inward opening, he could’ve gotten there.) He hated shuffled footsteps. He loved playing with dogs, playing hide & seek, & would chase a laser beam until his sides heaved. He had a bizarre fetish for a particular bamboo kitchen spoon. He loved the boat: unfazed by weather, curious about everything, a fiend for salmon blood puddle. Never a lap cat, he always wanted to be near us, flopping in a perfect triangle to keep both of his monkeys in sight. He tolerated our kisses, & more often than not, gave some back, rough licks of our foreheads & noses. If we caught him at just the right time, at his sleepiest, he’d let us cradle him, nuzzled into our necks.
Hal was our little goofball, our Dingus Khan. He was an adventure cat, my constant road companion. He was Halcyon the Destroyer, our sweet boy, part of the love pack, & he deserved so much more.
My heart goes out to you. The loss of an orange fur buddy is heartbreaking. ((hugs))
Dear Friends. So heartbroken for you. We know how much you love Halcyon, and how heartbreaking it is to part with a beloved friend. Saving you many hugs.
Dearest Tele & Joel, I am so sorry for Halcyon’s loss and for your loss. It sounds terrible. And he seemed such a wonderful cat (even more than the usual). I do believe he had a wonderful life – at least the parts I heard about. Charlie, another climber who loves being up over everyone on trees, roofs, and so forth, sends his condolences as do I. Much love, Auntie Social
I’m just gutted reading this. So very sorry for the loss of your dear friend. He was an amazing cat.
I’m so sorry.
Oh my god, Tele. This is so heartbreaking. I’m so sorry. Many hugs to you both. 🌹
So sorry you lost Hal. And loosing him to the sea — interesting.
I too lost my ginger cat recently. I loved him so much and miss him every day. I feel your pain.
Phew. That’s a blast of Holy Shit . Ugh . I’m sorry for this and Tele I love your writing so much and with the hard subject matter you had me chuckling. Halcyon came into your life like a flash and back out to sea in a flash . No words to ease the heart ache . Love to you both Janet
So sorry to hear about your kitty. Nothing hurts so much . Our thoughts are with you this season as you learn to live without him.
I’m so sorry, Tele. I was hoping for a happy ending, but I do believe your kitty led a charmed life. From my heart to yours & Joel’s.Take great care.
I left you a voice message. I am so sorry for your loss. I understand a bit of it having lost the kitty love of my life this year too.
It has been a tough few months for me as I have dealt with the grief, the searching for over 3 months, and finally, the finding of her body which helped.
One of the lessons I learned was not to beat yourself up with the guilt for somehow not being there, for feeling such grief and guilty about it when others are losing humans.
These kitty creatures become so close to us and are with us so much that their loss is so tough.
I have gone through the steps of grief and some counseling. Basically it is a tough road Tele. But it is also wonderful to have loved and been loved so deeply. We got a new little kitten that needed rescuing within s as week and she has really helped.
Let’s hope there is a place over the rainbow where Holly and Halcyon can meet and romp together.
So very sorry, Tele and Joel. Beautifully written. I feel as if I know Ha yon too. Sending hugs and Kleenex. Our fur babies are so precious.
Ohhh, such a hard way to start the season… so sorry to hear of Halcyon’s loss, both for him and for you Tele and Joel. Halcyon is at peace now, and did lead an unusually adventurous and happy life. I hope there is some relief in that. Thinking of you both.
This is just heart breaking. I am sending you both a ton of love and hugs. There is something so very special about pets and the way they work their way into our hearts.
I did love reading about his life, he was a cool cat who lived a great life.
I imagine him on the other side telling wonderful tales about his life of adventure.
We’re so sorry for your loss Tele. The animals we bring into our lives worm their way into our hearts, each in their own way. Hal was loved. Hang onto that. Hugs to you and Joel in the sad time.
I am so incredibly sorry for your loss. He was loved. He loved. That is more than many cats can say. You gave to him and he gave to you. No guilt, just love.
Sorry guys.
So very sorry.
hey tele! this is renee. i know your grief. and how much your heart hurts right now. it’s one thing to lose your best little buddy; another thing entirely for the sea to take them
the same thing happened to my mis’chiff, a gorgeous orange tabby girl with gold eyes who loved dave to the moon.
she had just gotten her sea legs & was so proud of herself!! she came across the deck up on the bridge to give me a nose kiss & to let me see her try them out. i was so proud of her, & she was proud of herself! she wasn’t sure at first what to do when the salmon slapped her with their tails. but learned pretty fast how much fun they were to play with …
then she was gone.
dave hasn’t yet forgiven the gods for that one.
here’s love for you both …
take care
renee
Such a beautiful tribute to your sweet boy. Sounds like he lived a better life in his short time on earth than most. May his adventures never end.
I’m so sad for you both. Such a big loss. The joining of grief and guilt was particularly poignant and so often true.
As usual this is so powerfully well written Tele but how hard it must have been to write. Thank you for sharing this story. What a great tribute to Halcyon.
I am so sorry to read about Hal. He couldn’t help but have an amazing life with you guys, but I know you will miss him terribly. I am truly sorry.
Oh Tele. Joel. I am so so sorry. My heart goes out to you two. Dang.
Oh Tele… whart a happy cat life he had. I still have some nautical kitty photos that I’ll share with you later, if you like. I’m glad I got to spend time with him and administer some pets and rubs that first year he went to sea…
What a sad end story for Hal. I feel your loss with you and know the season at sea just won’t be the same with this tragedy. Sending love from Wren Ridge.
Oh what a tragedy. I am so so sorry Tele and Joel. Hal was one helluva cat, a huge soul. Sometimes life isn’t fair and we don’t get to know why. But love is stronger than death.
Oh Tele and Joel,
I am in tears. Halcyon was awesome! So much like cat, buddy. I imagine he helped you through some tough times as my Buddy has. I understand the grief and the questioning, what if’s. But the Destroyer had an amazing life with the two of you, as short as it was.
I’m so, so sorry. I know how much this must hurt; I know how big the pawprints are that the furry ones leave upon our hearts. Much love and my deepest sympathies to you and Joel.
This makes me so very sad. Hal’s pictures are adorable. I wish I had met him in person. I have always adored cats.. My first one my parents gave to me when I was 3. She had coloring very similar to Hal’s.
Hal’s pictures are adorable. I have always loved cats. Got me first one at three years of age.
Oh Tele, Joel, I didn’t hear until now. I am so so sorry for you and Hal. To much heat break this year.