Jim Reynolds

The Cook Islands; you may have heard of this vibrant, sovereign nation of about 15,000 mostly Maori descendents. It spreads over 15 remote south Pacific islands lying 3,000 miles directly south of Hawaii and northeast of New Zealand. One of our friends, whose solemn duty is to record each year his Cook "island time" capers, finally convinced my wife, Joanne, and me to make the island sojourn this past spring. As very serious travelers, we pride ourselves on reading everything we can to be fully updated to appreciate our adventures. I'll leave describing most of the islands' natural splendors and vibrant, friendly culture that captivated us to the tourist books and websites. However, I just have to share this unbelievable feline fantasy that no one prepared us for. I swear, even though I'm subject to an occasional exaggeration, mates, this story is true!

Being cat lovers, traveling in what we Americans consider "undeveloped" countries has sometimes caused us general angst and real grief. However, we were blown away when we landed on the outer island of Aitutaki. (Don't tell any of this to your kitties unless you want to be hounded incessantly to move; or lose total control when they threaten to move to this giant coral sandbox when you scold them.)

Sure, we fell in love with Aitutaki for all the obvious reasons. This Cook island is most famous for its pristine, monster lagoon, brimming with tropical fish, giant clams, and sea turtles and the former site of the "Survivor" TV show. But did you know that Aitutaki is a feline's purr-fect paradise? Not only have these South Pacific kitties got an unlimited fish supply, it seems that years ago a son of either the island's chief or a high-ranking government official was bitten by Fido and an island-wide ban on dogs was decreed. So there are no dogs; no dogs! Coupled with the fact that there are no, I repeat, no snakes or poisonous insects slithering or hopping around the Cooks it's easy to understand why these rather pompous pusses strut their stuff in "no fear" sportswear, complete with matching manicured claws! (Ok, so my nose grew a little longer, but you get the picture.)

Our first night found us dining in an upscale, beautifully-appointed bayside hotel with an open-air restaurant that was next door to our backpacker bungalow. Everything from the tasteful tropical decor to the beautifully-clad native waitresses resounded with class and island style. I thought even we were behaving quite regally (we were attired in our very best shorts and T-shirts). Then I happened to notice a very elegantly dressed lady a few tables over from us. Or should I say I noticed a rather demanding cat, who, leaning on this woman's flowing gown, was pawing rather ruthlessly at her!

Fully expecting this sophisticated, international jet-setter to begin bellowing for the local authorities or whatever, I quickly alerted my wife and we braced ourselves for the scene to unfold, or should I say unravel, given all the gown clawing going on. Even our kitty compassion was crumbling, and we were thinking, "This furry island scamp's really got it coming, look out." But not the case; our dining damsel was, au contraire, most hospitable to her uninvited guest. She nonchalantly placed a choice morsel of her Mahi Mahi at kitty's feet while deftly continuing her table discourse. Crisis over; we were shocked! We felt both obliged and elated to support this kitty friendly custom. Suckers for such antics, we found ourselves charmed into sharing our grilled catch of the day with feline divas of varying discreetness hustling tables everywhere we ate (please make it fish only, they've become very picky).

But let me share probably the most decadent Aitutaki island cat story we encountered, which ironically began at our very own island camp. His name was Marmelade and you guessed it, this orange tabby was very English. It turned out that the former owners of our beachfront villa were British and they had grown homesick for their Marmelade. However, they had no idea how many English pounds they would drop (and we're not talking weight here) to import said Marmelade. Remembered as true cat lovers, we were told the couple spared no expense.

Marmelade would be personally escorted via the lap of a hired nanny, no airborne cargo crates for this lovely. Apparently after countless certificates, vet examinations, quarantines and $11,000 US dollars' bribery money, Marmelade was bestowed full Aitutaki kitty citizenship and status. Deliriously derelict for years and lost in puddy-kat euphoria, he told us it was worth every shilling. So the story goes that when his owners decided to sell their enterprise here, Marmelade emphatically refused to leave and became the inherited camp kitty. We wondered if maybe his keepers pocketed his projected return expense money and decided it was a "win-win" for him stay. At any rate, I must admit that when Joanne and I departed, we were a little envious of Marmelade, this privileged ex-patriot lost in paradise and deep into his mid-morning nap. Like I said, don't breathe a word of this to you know who…

Jim and his wife, Joanne, live in the mountains of northern California, just south of Oregon with their two cats and two dogs. Jim is a copywriter for the wine industry and a musician, who also loves travel, rock-hounding and enjoying wildlife.