On Monday afternoon, as I was preparing for a meeting, my husband flew upstairs, grabbed my arm and escorted me to the sliding glass doors of our balcony. Attached to the young cedar tree in front of us, like some sort of furry brooch, was our neighbor's cat. My husband had observed said cat from his office window as the feline began his ascent of the cedar. The expression on the cat's face, as well as the yowls emanating from deep inside his throat, indicated that he was lamenting his impulsive decision.
I would love to think that this tree climbing exercise was prompted by his desire to drop by and express his deep affection for us. I am pragmatic enough however, to think that the fact that our little chickadees find that particular cedar a nice place to hang out between trips to the bird feeder was the motivating factor for his hasty move.
It was the cat's great fortune to have chosen a young, pliable cedar, which allowed my husband and I to execute a relatively quick cat rescue, I pulled the tree towards us and he was able to grab the frightened feline and bring him in the house. Our next move would have to be swift and stealthy. We needed to get the visiting cat through the house and out the front door before our three felines realized what was happening.
With the cat tucked under my arm and one hand over his head in an attempt to muffle his indigent hisses and meows, I made haste across the dining room, past the living room and kitchen and to the front entry in record time (amazing how fast you can move when you are in danger of being shredded). Our friend was deposited on the front porch and, with one quick backward glance and a hiss for good measure; he tore across the street and out of sight. Our cats were oblivious to the drama that had just ensued.
Who says working at home is boring?
