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THE ASTORIAN • SATURDAY, JANUARY 8, 2022
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The crew of the
Solano, which
wrecked in Long
Beach in the
early 1900s,
stand with
their pets.
CATS, DOGS, PIGS AND GOATS
These and other animals were once mainstays aboard ships
By JULIA TRIEZENBERG
For The Astorian
F
or as long as sailors have been at
sea, their pets have sailed alongside
them.
Some animals served as mascots
for a ship. Cats and dogs were often
given to sailors as companions and
pest control.
Some were even trained for a par-
ticular role onboard — there were
dogs that were tasked with ringing the
ship’s fog bell!
Sailors lived their lives by a strict
set of superstitions, and the animals
they lived with were no exception.
Because cats and certain birds are
sensitive to changes in the weather,
their behavior was used to predict
whether the ship would enjoy fair
winds or if the crew should prepare for
a storm.
The so-called “air of bad weather”
would make a cat stiff -legged, restless
and anxious. If a ship needed wind, her
crew would hide their cat under a pot
or basket on the deck to encourage the
wind to look for it.
Cats and dogs were the most com-
mon pets onboard, but sailors’ defi ni-
tion of “pet” wasn’t limited.
All kinds of creatures became
exotic pets for sailors who wanted sou-
venirs from the places they had trav-
eled to. Parrots, monkeys, giant tor-
toises and even the occasional bear
could be found on board.
Goats and chickens provided milk
and eggs for the crew in addition to
companionship. Even Capt. Robert
Gray, the fi rst white American to sail
into the Columbia River, had a pet goat
named “Nancy.”
Life for sailors living with farm ani-
mals onboard tended to be a bit more
adventurous than the average cat or
dog.
The 1897 volume of “The Ship’s
Company” explains that, “Of all pets
none is better suited for ship life than
the wily goat,” but that didn’t come
without its challenges.
One ship in particular had a pet goat
that began headbutting everyone after
spending the day chewing tobacco and
drinking grog with the rest of the crew.
Another goat on board the sloop
The mascot goat of the USS Machias
aboard the ship.
The Solano’s canine companion takes the helm.
WHEN SAILORS SPENT WEEKS, MONTHS AND
EVEN YEARS AWAY FROM THEIR FRIENDS AND
FAMILIES, THEIR PETS WERE A TIE TO THE LIVES
THEY LEFT BEHIND WHILE AT SEA.
Spray chewed through the rope he was
tied up to, made his way to the captain’s
quarters and reportedly “devoured a
fi ne chart of the West Indies.”
Pigs that managed to escape the
chopping block became beloved pets,
too. For whatever reason, nearly all
pigs on board a ship were called “Den-
nis,” or some variation of that name.
According to “The Ship’s Com-
pany,” “it ( was ) only a little less than
mutiny to name them otherwise.”
One particular Dennis aboard
the USS Vanderbilt in the 1890s
befriended the crew and lived onboard
for many months, even saving a sheep
destined for dinner after snuggling up
with it on the evening of its intended
death.
When Dennis was accidentally
butchered after a miscommunication
between the cook and commanding
offi cer, the crew blatantly refused to
eat any of the meat.
One of the crew members
exclaimed, “Eat Dennis! I guess I’d
just as soon eat one of my friends.”
Not only did most pets on board a
sailing ship serve some kind of prac-
tical purpose — whether that be pest
control or providing eggs and milk —
they were also a reminder of home.
When sailors spent weeks, months
and even years away from their friends
and families, their pets were a tie to the
lives they left behind while at sea.
Julia Triezenberg is an educator at
the Columbia River Maritime Museum.