Cat Watch 2010: Part Deux

I had the nerve to go out of town for the weekend. At least, I think the cat considered it nerve.

Maybe he was displeased. Maybe he doesn’t like other cats. Maybe he just really likes trees. Because sure enough, within four days of ending the first Cat Watch, the world’s oddest cat climbed yet another tree.

The cat food was disappearing each night, so I figured Toonces/Kitty Cat Jones (depending on who you talk to), was just out on one his adventures. Then, I saw a white and orange cat that was definitely not Kitty Cat Jones running away from the bowl one night and knew that Kitty Cat Jones might have wandered too far away from home. I grabbed the SO and insisted we patrol the neighborhood.

“Mew,” I called.

“Mew,” the SO reluctantly added his calls to my own.

Two houses down, a cat answered, but it was a black cat that was also not Kitty Cat Jones, so we kept going. Four houses down, I heard the distinctive – and loud – cries of one Kitty Cat Jones, and sure enough, rather than being on the ground like most four-legged creatures of God’s green earth, he was in a tree. And at least 25 feet in the air in said tree to boot.

“Sweetheart,” I called, for some reason thinking that this time he would just run right down to me rather than staging a three-day sit-in like the time before. (Sometimes my own logic baffles me.)

As per what-was-quickly-becoming usual, the cat stayed right where he was in the tree. He just started screaming louder. Since it was almost 10:00 at night, the SO took my arm and suggested we “walk quickly away” before the whole neighborhood woke up and realized we were to blame for the disturbing nighttime noises.

In the morning, I went back to the tree where Kitty Cat Jones was perched with another tin of Friskies. (Again, why I thought everything that didn’t work last time would work this time is beyond me. It must have been plain and simple desperation.)

No luck, so I went back around lunchtime, and that’s when I met the woman who owned the house with the yard and the tree where Kitty Cat Jones was. “Is that your cat?” she said.

“Yep,” I said. “That’s my cat.”

“Oh, he’s been up there for a couple of days. I called the humane society, but they weren’t much help.”

“Thank you for that,” I said. “But I know they aren’t much help with cats up trees.” I didn’t add that I’d done this before. Last week.

While I was standing there talking to the homeowner, the neighbor from across the street came over.

“That’s your cat?” he said. “He is scared to death up there.”

While I was talking to the across-the-street neighbor, another neighbor, who I happen to know from one of my writing classes came out. “Is that your cat?” she said. “I’ve been reading about ways to get him out of the tree on the Internet.”

When my former student arrived, I told her all about Kitty Cat Jones’ adventure from the week before while the across-the-street-neighbor lay on the lawn and smoked, and we all stared at the cat.

As if I couldn’t create more of a spectacle while we were all gathered on the sidewalk (me still holding a tin of Friskies), two more neighbors came over from across the street.

The husband said something that I couldn’t understand, and my former student said, “I’m sure he is thirsty in this heat.”

“That your cat?” the wife said.

“That’s my cat,” I said. I had had to own up to this a little more than I was hoping to – especially because we all know how I feel about the judging.

“You do something to make him mad?” she said.

“Well, I did go out of town for the weekend,” I said. “I guess that did it.”

“Yep,” she said, and then she offered her own diagnosis of the cant’s seemingly-growing neuroses. “He throwing a temper tantrum. That’s what it is. It’s a temper tantrum.”

“You think so?” I said.

“Oh yeah. He’ll back down out of there when he’s ready.

“Really?” I said. “It does seem like we’ve gotten into a battle of wills."

“Un-huh,” she said, “and you’re losing. The cat’s in a tree, and what are you doing? Standing out in the heat holding its food. Uh-huh. That cat got you. That cat throwing a temper tantrum, and it got you.”

Life lessons and I got to meet the neighbors -- not exactly what I had planned for the afternoon. I may not have gotten the cat down, but at least it was something.

Epilogue: The net morning, my former student flagged down a bucket truck and made it retrieve the cat. (Thank you!) I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to show Kitty Cat Jones the joys of life on the ground – like easy access to food and not making me run through my Xanax like their Tic-Tacs. I don’t think he’s too impressed by the latter.