We have cats. Some people have dogs, or horses, or guinea pigs–my brother and his wife have llamas–but we have cats. At one time we had 22, but we’re down to nine now, ten if you include the tom who visits from time to time. Cats tend to bring adventure with them, and one of our most adventurous ones is Feé Chaton. She has taught us how to get a cat out of a tree.
Feé is a beautiful Bengal tabby whose name in French means “Fairy Kitten” because that’s what she resembles. Feé is very athletic, as Bengals are, and she is very energetic.
When Feé was just about five months old, she got out just as Chris and I were leaving to work the high school graduation. When we got back, I could not find her anywhere, until I heard her sweet little meow. She was about 50 yards into the woods up a tree about 30 feet. She was way too scared to come down. I tried everything I could think of, even dragging the tallest ladder we had through the trees and underbrush on the chance that having it there would make her feel safe enough to climb down–no such luck. A wild animal (probably a bobcat) had killed several of our cats and even one of our dogs that spring, and it terrified me that my innocent little kitten would be killed in the night.
I got myself a lawn chair and waited. And waited. All night. Finally, an hour or so after sunrise, Feé got hungry enough to come down. She fell, though, about 15 feet from the ground and disappeared in the brambles for a few minutes. At last, she came out, and I took her in the house.
Tomorrow, read the story of Feé’s second adventure and how our way to get a cat out of a tree should not be tried at home.
Cedar Ridge Polished Prose 