by Maria Mize
...a predicament in the life of a precocious, four-footed feline.
On Friday morning I woke up, as I do every day, and began filling four little dishes with cat food. I stepped outside and only Goober and Fur-Fur were present. Somewhere far away was a clear, soft yet pleading: "meow, meow, meow..."
Where was Stinker? ...in the garage? I listened. No, his meows were not coming from there. Suddenly my eyes were drawn up and to the left where Stinker sat on the corner, roof-edge of the condominium carport across the alley. Hmm...
I looked at my green, plastic porch chair... not high enough. Then I remembered a ladder somewhere in the garage... and went to fetch my key. Finding the ladder without hestitation, I maneuvered my way out of the garage and over to the carport -- in pajamas, no less! Securely placing the ladder, I carefully climbed, reaching for Mr. Stinker... who suddenly was scared and not so sure a rescue was what he wanted. With pupils dilated, he began backing away. Determined, I pulled him toward me. His claws extended and legs flailing, I grabbed him firmly and made my way safely down the ladder. Setting him promptly on the ground, he bounded over to eat -- completely forgetting his former predicament. I didn't fare so well with arm and chest bleeding and bruised!
Returning the ladder to the garage, I walked over to gather "Sir." Taking him into the house, I showered and readied myself for work... wondering how in the world Stinker got himself onto the roof of that carport? I chuckled, "Stinker" suits him well.