The Rescue

Sunday morning started with a peaceful morning in my yard. I planted myself on the bench under a tree with my rose tea, hoping a hummingbird would come along and help itself to the new feeder I set out. Eventually I gave up, and started milling about the yard, dead-heading some spent blooms.

As I headed to the compost bin, I heard the familiar voice of a gray cat, perched above in the evergreen tree at the northern front of the yard. I’ve spotted this kitty numerous times in this tree, often hanging out in different sectors. She has always been chatty when I’ve come near, but quite as a mouse when distance has grown. The first couple of times I saw her, I felt nervous that she might be stuck up there, but when I talked with her about it, she wouldn’t reply with a desperate tone. From her frequent change in location, I could tell that she was pretty adept at moving around up there, sometimes on very narrow limbs, and decided she was probably up there by choice.

Some friends came by last weekend to help welcome me to my new home, and they also spotted her there in the tree, and expressed concern that maybe she was stuck. I shared that I had seen her up there many times, and that I thought she was probably just fine. They were skeptical, but at this point it had been more than a week since I had first seen her up there, and she was acting the same as she was initially: vocal when folks came near, but then pretty quiet.

This evening, a little voice came into my mind, telling me it was time to test the theory as to whether she was up there intentionally or not. I did lots of talking to her early in the afternoon: Did she want to come down? Was she too afraid to come down? Did she want help? I felt pretty sure she did want to come down, and from the looks of her, she looked like she could really use a good meal. So, the rescue began in earnest.

She had moved a little closer to the trunk of the tree, and while she was still too high to reach from the ground even with a ladder, there is a raised area around the trunk where I though I might be able to at least reach the branch she was on if I grabbed enough branches to try to lower it. She was decidedly unsure about this plan. I gave the branches several hearty tugs, and she stirred from her position, not quite sure what to do. It seemed to me that if I gave her the impression that that branch was not a secure place to sit, she’d move – hopefully towards the trunk rather than farther out on the branch. This seemed to be effective, though she was still very nervous about the swaying branch below her, and I’m sure she was questioning my intentions at this point.

I was finally able to tug the branches enough that I could grab the limb she was resting on. I then spent the next 15 minutes or so holding on to the branch and trying to convince her that I wanted to help her get down. I was feeling more nervous at this point as well, not sure if she would attack or not. She crawled very slowly along the limb, until she could smell my hand. I focused on banishing any fearful thoughts from my mind, and reached my finger up to give her a little scratch under the chin. She seemed very appreciative of this gesture, and I knew I was on the right track.

With my arm fully extended, gripping the branch, I had created a pathway down for her. Having lived in the tree for goddess knows how long, her claws were well-developed, and with nothing but a cotton t-shirt on for covering, I was pretty sure that she’d leave deep track marks in my arm (and shoulder, and head…) if she went for that option. We both contemplated this plan for a good long time, and neither of us were feeling too good about it. But I was so close at this point, I had to figure out a way to get her down.

I was trying hard to not damage the tree in this rescue attempt, but I figured it was better for the tree to take the beating than me. And so, I pulled the tree limb down as far as I could, and reached for her with my other hand. This was it. Would she let me grab her around the middle, or would she go ballistic on my hand? It was the moment of reckoning. I got a decent hold of her belly, and slowly lowered her onto my shoulder, then on to the ground.

Big sigh!

I told her to stay put for a moment, and went inside to grab the gourmet can of cat food I had bought for my kitties as a treat. As soon as I sat it down in front of her, she started gobbling away, barely tasting it as she inhaled it down. I headed back in and returned with some water and another can full of dry food. I left her be and continued on with the evening’s chores.

When I looked out the window to see if she was still around, I saw a neighborhood cat looking up at the fence, and felt my spirits drop, thinking she might have been scared back up into the tree. When I came bounding out, the black cat was gone, and the gray kitty was perched atop the fence, finishing up her post-meal bath. Clearly fond of being high, I’ve dubbed her Courtney.

Time will tell whether Courtney continues passing her time in my tree or not. Hopefully she knows that I tried to help her, and maybe that belly full of food will be of comfort, if only for a night.