MAY 2006: “An End to Construction and Monthly Reports?” [continued]

"Pets are Good for Your Health!?!?"

Nothing like a cat "emergency" to liven things up, and that's what it felt like the day Tipper got stuck up a tree. Oh, I'm not talking about her experience, but the anxiety and guilt I felt because I couldn't get her down, anxiety and guilt I felt for twenty hours! I'm tellin' ya, I was a wreck.

I hear you asking, "Why so long?" It was a combination of three rather large Siberian Huskies in the yard underneath the tree, owners who were not home, and the want of a ladder. I first became aware of the predicament about 1:30 in the afternoon, when the gardeners came to tell me, "Gato! Gato! Gato!", all the while pointing at the neighbors pine trees.

I wasn't concerned, at first, because I couldn't believe that one of MY cats could be so stupid. Well, after I gazed into the trees for a while, trying to see which cat it was, I finally made out a little white face with calico markings: "TIPPER?"

       (Click this image for more.)
No one saw her do it. No one knew why she did it, possibly even her. And, no one was interested in going into the dogs' yard to get her down. She was twenty feet up a very skinny pine tree just like tens-of-thousands planted all over Altos; the dogs were planted under the tree, not interested in anything except the tiny morsel tantalizing them from above. I'm sure they were chagrined for allowing her to escape in the first place. I mean, how often did they get a chance like that, cooped up in a chain-linked compound? "Dadgummit!"

Unfortunately, the dogs' owners weren't home. A neighbor tried to tell me when they would be back, but my lack of Spanish prevented him. On fairly friendly terms with the dogs, however—and better able to communicate with them than me—the neighbor also tried to coax them into other parts of the yard so I could get under the tree and coax Tipper down. But, the mutts weren't buying any. There was nothing for it, we'd have to wait for the owners to show up.

About 4 pm it started to rain, and my heart started to break. I must've walked over to look at the cat in the pine ten times. She always meowed and meowed, but never made a move to come down. My level of guilt began to rise...

Normally, the owners came home around 5:30, but not that night. They weren't home by 9:00. I went to bed at 11, still no owners and, I'm afraid, not much sleep either—Tipper's plight preyed on me more than if I'd been the one in the tree. (Sheesh, she's just a cat; what's my problem?)

I heard the owners car at 1 am. Since they don't speak English, I couldn't see me trying to explain things to them in the wee hours of the morning, so I stayed in bed and stewed; I didn't know how Tipper was going to get out of this one...

It was also that same said night that I learned about the critter in the rain forest that sounds just like a cat in distress. I'd been lying awake for an hour or so, when I heard what I thought was a cat meowing loudly and with urgency, as if being carried off by something. I was up and out on the terrace in a heart-beat, but I couldn't tell from what direction the sound came. I was beside myself with worry and fear, until I realized that the cry was exactly the same every time, and too repetitive to be a cat. Thanks a lot!

In the morning, I went to see the neighbor from the day before and asked him to help me explain the situation. He, however, said we should wait till the owners woke-up, at least that's what I was left to understand. So, Tipper still sat, and it wasn't until 9:30 that we were able to talk to the sleepy owners.

They tied the dogs up, and then everyone piled into the yard, "kitty-kittying", meowing, begging Tipper to come down, but she wasn't buying any of that, assuming she could move. Fortunately, the owner had a ladder, and the other neighbor had a light daughter not too afraid to climb it. So, with everyone else holding the ladder, she climbed up and eventually was able to lift Tipper off her roost and carry her down to my waiting arms—I breathed such a heavy sigh of relief people were looking at me.

It was 10:30. Tipper had been in the tree for twenty hours.

Now, she still has some pine sap stuck to her fur, but we're slowly working it out. Other than that, she's back to her old tricks: diving me crazy!

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