Is That a Cat Up There? What Rises May Not Fall!

Is That a Cat Up There? What Rises May Not Fall!

Is That a Cat Up There? What Rises May Not Fall!
Is That a Cat Up There? What Rises May Not Fall!

Is That a Cat Up There? What Rises May Not Fall!

Is That a Cat Up There? What Rises May Not Fall!. A short while ago, our cat climbed the huge trees that surround our house and remained there, refusing to come down.

We used every technique in the book, including:

The first step is to crack open a tuna can and place it at the foot of the tree.
Standing underneath and sweet talking it.
Choosing to ignore it in the hopes that it would find out how to descend on its own.
Nothing was successful. She cried nonstop throughout the day and into the night.

It was a sad situation.

When she did this to me for the first time, I was away for the entire week. My wife contacted me over the phone and said, “What should I do?”

“She climbed to that position on her own. When she feels ready, she’ll make her way down “I said.

The “no-help” category was created specifically for that piece of advise. It was at that time that she contacted the volunteer fire department. They really did not want to bring the boys over to help them get the cat down from the tree either for obvious reasons.

At the close of the second day, I gave her a call and informed her that, according to the information I had gleaned from various online sites, cats (almost) always come down between the third and fifth day when they have had enough time to work up an appetite.

A loud voice could be heard yelling “FIVE DAYS?” across the phone line. “I won’t hold my breath for the next five days. It’s game over for her!”

Obviously, she was overreacting to the situation. The cat eventually made its way down, exhausted and hungry, but surprisingly friendly for such a grumpy creature.

“See,” I said. “You must simply step back and let nature to take its course. There was no need for us to be concerned about her. She was capable of finding a solution to her own situation.”

After two weeks, I began working from the comfort of my own home. The cat climbed yet another tree, and this time it reached the very top! Throughout the whole day, while my wife was at work, I sat at home, typing away on my computer at the kitchen table, while our cat meowed and meowed and meowed outside the window.

On the second day, I waited at the foot of the tree and chatted to the cat in an effort to get her to come down from the tree. She spoke to me in a manner that suggested she was appealing for assistance while her large eyes were fixed on mine. After finishing my meal, I took the spoon that was still in the dish and rapped it on the edge of the bowl where the yogurt had been. This music has a way of luring her in every time.

She gazed at me while continuing to sob even more. If only I could talk CAT, I’m certain she’d be telling me, “You fool, of course I want that yogurt. I’m not stupid. But do you see me? I’m hanging out on this enormous tree fifty feet in the air!”

I had the impression that I had no control.

After lunch, I took the 40-foot extension ladder to the tree and perched it dangerously on a sloped hillside so that I could climb the tree to a higher level. After that, I secured my footing by taking one wobbly step at a time while wearing gloves made of leather and a shirt with long sleeves.

The cat climbed much more.

I ascended another seven or eight feet up the tree before I decided to use the top rung as a step. As I did so, I noticed a yellow sign that warned me not to use the top rung as a step.

As I looked down, I realized that I am a 52-year-old sedentary man, 20 pounds overweight (on a good day), and approximately 50 feet off the ground, trying to convince a scared cat to come a little closer so that I can grab her, or even worse, so that she can grab me. As I looked down, I also realized that I am coaxing the cat to come closer so that I can grab her, or even worse, so that she can grab me.

I can still recall thinking to myself, “This is going to turn out to be a catastrophe.”

I grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck and held her at arm’s length so that her horizontal paws, which were swinging at me like a little windmill with claws attached, wouldn’t be able to hurt me. I peeled the cat off of every branch that was within paw-reach while simultaneously shinnieing down the large oak tree, leaving deposits of flesh from one arm that had been securely wrapped around the bark.

We finally made it to the ground after crawling our way there slowly and losing most of those 20 pounds via perspiration.

My wife glanced at the tree where the ladder was still leaning and asked me, “Tell me you didn’t climb that tree.” when she arrived home.

I fessed up to it.

“I was able to hold off for just so long. The cat required our assistance, and somebody had to come to her rescue. She has a panic attack, rushes up the tree, and then finds that she is unable to go down by herself.”

After a brief period of reflection, she turned her attention to me and remarked, “That’s Ryan, too, you know.”

My smallest child, who is frightened at the present moment, goes up a proverbial tree and becomes stuck there. Therefore, for many years, either I or another member of his family would scale the wall to save him.

It irritates me to no end when she’s right.

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