I've known as much from the day I was born. Take one trip to the seashore, and the healthful benefits of seawater are plain to see. Who knows how many fish swim in the vast sea, yet not a one is fallen ill and tended by a doctor. When a fish falls ill it can't swim. When it can't swim it dies and floats to the surface. When a fish expires they say it's upped and gone, when a bird expires they say it's dropped down dead, and when a man expires they call it passing away. Find a seasoned traveler, a man who's sailed the Indian Ocean, and ask if he's seen a fish that's upped and gone. He's sure to tell you no. What other answer is there. However far he's traveled, he'll have seen not a single fish, floating on the waves, breath its last breath -- "Breath its last breath" is the wrong term. For a fish, we have to say "gulp its last gulp of seawater." -- No one sees a fish, gulping its last gulp of seawater, float up onto the waves. Steam the boundless oceans, day after day and year upon year, and you'll find not a a single fish that's upped and died. One can conclude irrefutably, then, that fish are a hardy lot. And why are fish so hardy? One needn't wait on humans for an answer. It's quite simple. It's plain to see. All day every day, they gulp seawater and swim in the sea. To fish, the benefits of swimming in the sea are self-evident. What's self-evident to fish should also be self-evident to humans. In 1750, Dr. Richard Russell promoted the Brighton seaside. A plunge into the Brighton sea, he proclaimed somewhat sensationally, could instantly and completely cure some four hundred and four maladies. His insights were better late than never. We cats too, when the time is right, will be off for Kamakura. Not just yet, though. All things have their season. Just as pre-Meiji Japanese lived and died never knowing the virtues of seaside bathing, the time is not yet ripe for cats of today to jump, headlong and naked, into the sea. Only fools, they say, rush in. In this present day, when unloved cats are flung off the Tsukiji piers, never to surface again, a rash plunge is ill-advised. Until evolution works its magic and we cats are equipped to cope with the maelstrom -- or put another way, until the general expression for an expired cat is "upped and gone" -- we're not about to swim in any sea.