Its rather sad, the cat, Buster, will die in the end.
July 4th of 2003, my wife and I were walking the dogs down our lane. It was early but dark, with a terrible storm brewing. Wind, lightning, that sort of comotion. She says to me, "I hear a cat". I heard nothing but clamor. But I tend to take her at her word. This girl also has a superhuman sense of smell, so I tend to think her other senses outdo mine also. We looked and walked, and looked. By process of triangulation, we determined that there was indeed a cat in a slender but tall tree near our house. It'll come down and go home when we leave I said, hoping she'd buy that. She did... till morning. The cat was still there. Hell of a storm that night too. I'm suprised the tree was still standing. But now, refreshed after a long night of restful sleep (I always sleep well during a thunderstorm) I sprang into action! Getting my longest ladder from the garage, I carried it into the underbrush to the base of the tree and climbed right up. The cat, climbed also, about 6 feet out of reach. Damn. Not to be outdone, I got a handsaw. And climbed back up. And started cutting. As the top of this spindly tree started to bend, I thought, I'll just somehow catch (i.e. rescue) the cat as it passes me by. The cat, not to be outdone, jumped.
When it hit the ground, it was already running, and shot straight up the nearest tree. Its new tree was the mother of all trees. Suprised that a family of druids weren't camped out nearby. The cat looked at me with distain. And contempt. And some other cat type looks. Very unnerving. No way to climb or cut. Hmmmm. Its gotta be hungery or thirsty. I'll lure it. Cats I think are the hardest animals to get to do something they don't want to do. Even worse than trying to dress a 4 year old. But I did my best. A cool bowl of water, some moist cat food. Only the best for my fur covered friend. Two days later the cat was still there in the tree, water untouched, food eaten by racoons. At 105 degrees, why won't this creature just collapse and fall to the ground?! So my wife, patiently watching my manly skills of outdoorsmanship, says, I think I'd better help, before you kill it. So she goes to our local animal lady, (every neighborhood has one of some sort), and gets a live trap, puts in a dish of tuna, and has herself a new cat by noon. Our intention was never to keep the cat. Especially one that weighed only about 1 pound (wet) and was cute as a button. How hard could it be to give it away. Kids do it everyday, by the boxload. We couldn't, and we didn't. 3.5 years later, we still have the cat, and to this day, he thinks I am STILL trying to catch him. He runs away anytime I enter a room. Hides like I need new racket strings. I've only touched him once since then and it was while he was sedated. And I think he knew about that. Maybe it was the fall from such a great height. I don't know.
