Thursday, January 22, 2015

Mason, Rescuer of Cat(s)

The cat Mason pulled from the tree, sniffing my gloves.

Most days, our morning and evening walks are grossly uneventful. We usually just walk the same route up to the lake, occasionally talk to Nick about all of the other dogs we see along the way (that'd be NONE because, trust us, no one else walks their dog in these woods) and otherwise banter about the chores ahead for that day.

But yesterday we saved a cat. Well, Mason did.

Walking up the hill to the lake, we heard meowing. It took us a minute or so to figure out the pleas were coming from 25 feet up a tree. A little black-and-caramel-colored kitty was holed up on a high branch, and she wasn't happy about it. But she wasn't climbing down, either.

We were headed into town that morning, so on our way out, we gave her some incentive: chicken and a bowl of water down on the soft forest floor. (Jump, Kitty, JUMP!)

About 5 hours later, we returned home (yes, errands take 5 hours when you live an hour from town), and she was still in the tree, so Mason got his chance to fulfill a lifelong dream: To become a fireman.

With the extension ladder fully extended, he climbed to the top rung (and I'm quite certain the OSHA warning tag on the ladder's side has clear views on such use) and he used a soft fluffy paint roller on the end of a 6-foot-long stick to prod the kitty into climbing down just far enough for him to get a grip on her scruff.

But then she refused to let go of the tree, so he had to hold her out a couple of feet from the ladder and carefully negotiate his descent.


The cat is temporarily residing on our back porch. She's a purrr machine, and all she wants is love.  We're doing our best, but Nick the Dog isn't so good at sharing our love. Every time she peers in through the French doors, he charges. Somehow she's found a safe little hideaway, wiggling into a small open space inside our battery cover. But every time we go outside, she pops out for more love. Mason, the big softie, built her a little towel-lined box to sleep in.

Alas, we can't keep her. Nick wouldn't have it. And the coyotes WOULD have her. And we'd have no neighbor to care for her when we go on vacations. And another costly Frontline prescription?

I know, I know. She's such a cutie, but tomorrow we take her to a local shelter. She's adorable. She'll get snapped up in no time. Right?

Oh, the floors, you ask? They're done. They're not perfect, but we like them. And they're a whole lot better than what we had. Photos to come, once we can FINALLY put furniture back into the room. On Sunday.

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