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Lovely duet!

Great book!

“No cat!”, I exclaimed. My husband rolled over, “Thank goodness! I’ll put that ladder back this afternoon.” As I began to redress for the day, a dream came back to me, but it was more about sound than pictures: the sound of clinking,as if tiny claws were scampering on metal.

No cat. I looked to the foot of the tree, praying that it also had - no cat. As I walked around the yard looking in places a kitty might hide, I found no cat. Flooded with relief, I let the dogs out, with Brie shifting her weight between paws and giving me a dirty look. I returned to our bedroom.

This morning, I pulled on my lined jeans, wool sweater over my pajama top and told my bewildered Lady Brie she could not go out. Buster just slept as he always does, but with his nose under a blanket. Back out in the cold daylight, I hurried to the edge of the porch steps and looked up at the tree.

I went to ASU in Boone for one of my Master’s. I know that people can get frost bite much less freeze to death going to their mailboxes in the winter there. This was that kind of night. I lay awake fighting tears about the cat on the tiny branch, in the wind, and -2 degrees.

“Dear God, where are your gloves”; I can’t feel my legs”; “You just about knocked me out”; and various words that one imagines the “Old Man” in a “Christmas Story” says while fixing the furnace. When the ladder was finally as high as we could get it on the tree. We stumbled back into the house.

We would still not be able to reach it, but maybe it could back down enough to get to the ladder. This would make it easier for it to get to the ground and hopefully home. The next several minutes were spent with the two of us looking a little like Laurel and Hardy with a ladder and comments like…

Meanwhile, I blew through the internet about cats, trees, and mathematical probabilities of what happens to a cat if it’s stuck and it’s -2. Nothing good. I knew our ladder was not nearly tall enough. If we elongated as far as we could, could we get it close enough to give the kitty a chance?

“I’m afraid for it,” I explained. I had to point it out in the tree for him, when he followed me back out. We looked at the illuminated eyes that had now shifted to stare straight at us. “It’s going to get super cold, but I don’t know what we can do,” he said.

I peered at the forlorn feline for a few more minutes, and my heart began to sink. If it can’t get back down (sometimes they can’t. I’ve had cats), what then? Another gust of wind and I mumbled something a little more perverse than “What the heckin’”. I told my husband it was a cat up our oak.

It came to rest on that tiny branch. It was not scraggly and appeared well nourished from what I could tell from our porch sensor light and my poor excuse for a flashlight. My monsters gave up after a frigid gust and quickly padded past me with looks of “what the heckin’ Mama! Let us in!”

I had let our extra large monsters out at dusk just after their dinner. I heard a scuffle and higher pitched barks that signaled something gone wrong. Grabbing my coat and hat (temp at 12), I ran to the edge of the deck in time to see a black blur skim up our big oak that still stood after Helene.

I’m so sorry about your friends. It ‘s a strange feeling to be part of a natural disaster. We had one tree that flattened our fence, so nothing like friends who lost their home,as well as family members. The worst part for us was no power and water, and then boiling water for 53 days. Stay safe!

Thank you. I know about the book anthology. I live in Asheville. We were incredibly lucky. Our neighbors were not.