I knew at about 10:00am that it was not going to be an easy day today.
Sir Monty, who often comes out to the garden with me when I’m weeding or putzing, likes to run amuck.
Running amuck, in his world, means tearing up and down the hill, like he is on fire, scrambling about 10 feet or so up a random tree or two, and then jumping down. He gets so excited to be out there with me that he acts like a fuzzy little crack addict, too energized to be in control of himself. (Kind of like me, when My Captain comes home.)
And today he tore around the yard and bounded up this particular tree.
Here, let me help.
In his excitement and boundless energy, he got a leetle beet too far up the tree. He’s a good 25 feet up there.
I figured he’d come down eventually.
THREE HOURS LATER, he was still up there mewing!!! I couldn’t take it anymore! My heart had bled to death hearing his pathetic little mews! And I was sure our resident hawks and eagles were coming for him any minute.
As you can see in that picture, I tried to see how close our little 8′ ladder would get me to him, in order to coax him down. He wasn’t having any of it.
I called the Veterinarian. They had no advice to offer, other than to bait him with food.
So, I tried putting an open can of cat food out to lure him down. The good stuff! With gravy and everything!!!
He told me he was too upset to eat.
I called Papa. He was not available.
I called Mike, the man who talked me into adopting this miscreant. (And by talking me into it, I mean he said, “Hey, would you like a kitten?” He’s a sweet talker, that guy.) He didn’t have a ladder big enough to help.
I called my friend Maggie, who is a firefighter/paramedic, as it is her day off, and asked if she had a ladder. She wouldn’t be home for a while.
I called My Captain, who’s predictable retort was, “He’ll come down. You never see a cat skeleton in a tree.” To which I replied, “Yes, but we have Red Hawks who love little Sir Montys for Breakfast.” To which he poo-pooed me condescendingly. To which I stuck my tongue out at the phone.
So then I called my friend and neighbor, John. John works as a subcontractor in construction. He happened to 1) have a ladder long enough to reach my wee little kitty, and 2) be about 3 minutes away. I had not even gotten off the phone with him when he pulled in the driveway, whipped out his super-ladder in less time than I’ve seen some firefighters do it, and had Sir Monty down. I barely had time to snap this photo with my phone.
I couldn’t thank him enough. Monty thanked him by clawing his shoulder to shreds.
The long and the short of it is this: The hero of the day today was John, NOT a firefighter, NOT a policeman, NOT a soldier. Just a man who stopped his day for a moment, to help a woman and her kitty in distress, without mockery or condescension. He wasn’t looking for payment, or accolades, or recognition. He wasn’t even looking for my gratitude, frankly. He was just being kind.
Obviously, John has homemade cookies in his future.
The world needs more Johns, if you ask me.
(Hey ladies….he’s single! Lives right here in Dickerson, Maryland, too! )