Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

A number of years ago Spouse and I kept horses at Spouse's brother's hobby farm. They gave us cheap rates, and in exchange we would help out with chores and other work. As Spouse's work schedule differed from mine, I was the lucky one to be there during milking, feeding and hay baling. Which was fine. It was fun to be there around the animals.

I like animals. Most of them anyway. Not so keen on hogs.

There was a day I was in the barn cleaning out horse stalls when I heard the distressed cry of a cat. Never eager to see any animal in pain I began a search for the source. It was hard to place, for the sound echoed. Eventually, I worked my way to the back of the barn where I came upon the silo. The echo was in there.

The silo had not been used in years, and like many such things, became an accumulator of various pieces of debris. I stood in the narrow opening, searching with my eyes for any sign of movement. There was none. I would have to go inside.

No sooner had I done so than the crying stopped. Oh, no! I crushed it. I knelt down to pick up the piece I had stepped on and the crying returned. But it wasn't from below. Slowly, I looked up.

There, at least forty feet above me, and perhaps more, was tiny little kitten - sitting on the silo roof and crying to get down.

How did you get up there? I cried.

Before I continue, let me segue and inform you that I am absolutely terrified of heights. I don't like climbing ladders to the garage eaves. So the thought of climbing forty or more feet straight up in the air was not one I entertained. I started to leave.

But kitty had seen me, and kitty could also see I was leaving. The mews became more frantic. The plaintiff cries worked into my being and stopped me dead in my tracks. Without even realizing what I was doing I began the arduous climb up to get the cat.

Arriving at the top I found getting the cat to come to me was not just a matter of asking. Neither was reaching out and grabbing it easy. That meant letting go with one hand. And of course the stupid cat was so afraid it tried to stay where it was. I got it and cradled it in one hand while pressing myself to the silo ladder. Now who was going to save me?

I needed both hands to descend, so I managed to undo the top of my shirt and drop the cat inside. Then down I came. When I reached bottom I let the cat go.

Do you think I got any thanks? Do you think the cat would remember me later? No. In fact the stupid thing managed to climb up there again a couple of weeks later and I had to repeat the process all over again. Some things are not easier the second time.

Cats.