Wilbur doesn't care what you do to him as long as he has contact with his peeps. Here, Hans sports his bloody lip from Sunday's adventure.
Why Hans doesn't just bitch slap me I'll never know. I'm pretty sure if we lived in a dog's world I'd be the irritating ankle biter and Hans would be the wise old Collie.
After our dinghy fiasco of 'Day One' we were sitting in the cockpit discussing our cruising plan for the following days when the wind kicked up. We looked up at the sky and admired all the different kinds of clouds and also noted some lightning off in the distance. Thunder started rumbling and Hans mentioned that perhaps we should roll up our solar panels. I disagreed and felt that they could be anchored down by the remnants of our sun pad (the main pad had abandoned us in the Chesapeake years ago thus proving as I've said before that inanimate objects are smarter than people). Hans, and this time he used his Captains voice, said once again that the solar panels needed to be stowed away. I continued to argue and insisted that we needed them to catch the early morning rays of the sun and insinuated that he was being overly cautious and petty.
It was when I was flinging and huffing my way to the bow in order to roll and stow those stupid (and not cheap) solar panels away, that a huge gust of wind picked one of them up and tossed it overboard.
I nearly choked and ran like a scalded dog (okay, scalded ankle biter) in hopes of catching it. I am one lucky pup because just a few months ago we had to have the connections to the panels replaced and these new ones are very secure. If we'd had the old ones, that panel would have been history. It fell into the water wiggling like an eel but thanks to that sturdy connection I was able to drag it back into the boat. I immediately rolled it and its partner up in a heart beat and slammed them into a locker.
Here are our portable solar panels. It doesn't take much wind to cause a problem
The new connections we had installed are what saved my butt!
Hans, being the nice person (or Collie) that he is, did not give me a hard time and don't think I'm not grateful; I gave him a huge kiss (avoiding the scabs left behind from Wilbur's rescue attempts on Day One) and let him mix me a Wilbur Wow-Wow.
Actually, today after a full day of motoring (the wind didn't kick in until after we anchored, go figure) I told him I needed to update the blog and was desirous, yet once again, of a Wilbur Wow-Wow.
My wish was his command.
Never, ever, underestimate an ankle biter!
Wilbur is stuck with us. The poor thing wonders what the hell we have planned next.