THE CAT

THE CAT'S IN THE CRADLE...OF THE NEIGHBOR'S TREE

So I was spending my autumn Sunday afternoon the way I always do: I was half-asleep on the couch, a football game on the television. Every few minutes I would wake up and say, “Do NOT turn on Strawberry Shortcake. Daddy is watching the game.”

But this Sunday would be interrupted by something other than the sounds of a sneaky three-year-old trying to turn off Daddy’s very important game between ... some two teams.

I heard a knock at the door, and opened my eyes slightly, trying to see the door without having to actually move.

No luck, since I cannot see through walls. My daughter assumed the role of scout to find out who was at the door. “Daddy, it’s Mr. Dave,” she said.

My neighbor, Mr. Dave, or as I call him, Dave, had come over to borrow a ladder. Dave explained to me that a cat was stuck high in a tree in his back yard, and he was going to go up and get it. This is about as close to being a fireman as I will ever get, so I immediately sprung at the chance to help.

The cat was probably about 25 feet up a small tree in Dave’s yard. Judging by the sounds the cat was making, it was not very happy about being up there.

As Dave and I surveyed the situation, I decided I would see if I could climb the tree. It was only about six inches in diameter, so my attempt caused the tree to sway back and forth violently, nearly flinging the cat about six houses away.

Dave and I discussed options besides using the ladder.

Sadly, the plan with the most potential involved a basketball and a blanket. We opted to get the ladder.

Because the cat was even more unhappy, I went inside and decided to put on my Cat Retrieval Armor, also known as a winter coat, baseball cap and work gloves. I am pretty sure that an angry cat falling on you cannot be good for exposed skin.

I extended the ladder to its maximum point and began my ascent. Each step I took made the cat, for some reason, a little angrier and fidgety. “It’s OK,” I said.

“I’m here to help.” Apparently, I thought this cat could not only speak English, but could reason as well.

When I got to the very top of the ladder, the tree was leaning slightly, and the cat was holding on for all of its dear lives. I was gripping another tree with one hand and slowly reaching up towards the cat with my other.

As I balanced delicately near the very top of the ladder, I got my hand all the way to the cat’s back legs. And then I noticed a slight complication.

The cat had draped itself over a large Y in the tree, its back legs dangling over towards me, and its front legs clawing into the other side of the tree.

I could try several approaches: (1) I could grab the cat by the back legs and pull it towards me; (2) I could grab the cat by the front legs and drag it through the crook of the tree; or (3) I could shake the tree, knocking the cat free and then catch it in midair.

Obviously, No. 3 would have been the coolest to watch, had it succeeded. But the risk factor was a little higher than desired. Option No. 2 had the downside of doing more harm than good, especially when the cat realized what was happening and flipped out.

So I decided to try and back the cat down. It was growing more and more unhappy with each move I made, so I knew time was of the essence. Also, I was wearing a winter coat in 75-degree weather, so time was really of the essence.

I made a well-balanced reach for the cat and managed to get my hand firmly on its back. I began to pull it toward me, despite its sudden desire to stay up in the tree, as evidenced by the amount of clawed resistance it was providing.

Eventually, I reached the ground safely, and managed to avoid getting clawed to shreds.

Nobody knew whose cat it was, so Dave suggested that we just set it on the ground and hoped that it would have the good sense to go home. “But what if goes back up the tree?” we wondered. Basketball and blanket, we decided.