Cat in a Tree

Cat in a Tree

by Scott Speck

1.

It was Halloween night, and so windy that he couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t the wind’s roar through the trees that kept rousing him, but instead, his love of the windy weather, itself – a fascination that had brought him, a year ago, to rent this apartment – the attic floor of a quite large, old house, divided long ago into three main floors of apartments. With only thin layers of insulation, wood, and asphalt shingles above him, he enjoyed living that much closer to the sky.

By one o’clock, he was finally drifting off when something startled him, the briefest sound, something that didn’t belong out there tonight. He paused his breathing and listened...

It came again a few seconds later, the faint cry of some small animal. The wind rose to fever pitch, and the cry sounded again, more plaintively this time, drawing him from bed to the single large window in his flat.

He undid the latches and lifted the sash. A thrill ran through him as warm wind blew inside and swirled about the room. It was filled with the subtle scents of wood fires, and of leaves curling brown in autumn’s slow burn. Several papers on his desk rattled and took flight, their bleached whiteness floating ghostlike until they settled to the floor.

The cry repeated, more clearly now through the open window. It was a cat – frightened, no doubt, and probably stranded among the swaying branches of a tree. He fixed his gaze upon the nearest branch, and there it was, hunched in silhouette against rushing clouds that glowed with moonlight.

He called out, “Here kitty-kitty!”

The shadowy form shifted, and two eyes glinted green in the night. Glad he had gained its attention, he waved and called out again. He put on his socks and slippers and climbed out the window onto the fire escape. There, he was level with the cat’s position in the crook of a large oak branch. It meowed again. How far was it from the house, he wondered, then estimated around six feet. That meant it was perched about three feet from the fire escape’s outer railing.

Given his excellent sense of balance, he sat upon the railing and swung his feet out and over the edge. He wasn’t good with heights, especially four stories up, but the ground below was completely lost in darkness. Fighting his nerves, he braced both feet on a crossbar halfway up the railing’s height and stood, balancing himself and stabilized by his handholds on the railing.

The wind, after calming for a while, returned in powerful gusts, so he held his position and watched the cat, their eyes now locked on each other. The creature had fallen silent, and he hoped he was reassuring the frightened feline. When the wind calmed again, he made his move, reaching out with one hand until it gripped the nearest tree branch. The hardest part was detaching his other hand from the safety of the railing. The cat sat up and leaned forward, as if waiting for him.

With both hands against the tree, his body leaning outward over empty space, he reached out his right hand, extended his body further, slid his fingers under the cat’s front legs, and scooped it free. Bringing the cat to his chest, he nestled it between his forearm and his flannel pajamas. Now came the hard part – sliding his other hand higher up the branch to bring him closer toward the railing. It took a while, but soon he was breathing easier. Meanwhile, the cat was purring, a delicious vibration conducting through his chest and calming his nerves. At last, he pushed off the tree with all his strength, and, an instant later, grabbed the railing with his free hand. He waited a few seconds to stabilize himself, then lifted and swung his legs back over the railing. With both his feet firmly on the fire escape, he rested against the rusty rail and felt his heartbeat slow.

As if in reward for his feat of rescue, the wind rose again and remained strong. He reveled in its roar about his ears, the whipping of his hair, all the while cradling the warm, purring animal in his arms. Perhaps the cat would enjoy quieter surroundings after its ordeal, so he climbed back through the window. Given the warmth of the night, he left the window open a few inches.

His flat consisted of a single room, perhaps twenty feet square, with a kitchenette at one end and his bed near the window. He lay the cat gently upon the tousled blankets, in the hope that it would remain there, content.

In the kitchenette, by only the light of the open refrigerator, he poured milk into a small bowl and placed scraps of leftover chicken on a saucer. Carrying both toward the bed, he placed them on the floor, then roused the cat and placed it before his offerings. It sniffed both bowls and immediately set to work. He switched on a lamp and beheld, for the first time, the cat’s sleek jet-black fur. He loved how it purred as it feasted. Next, he brought over a bowl of water, which, for now, the cat seemed to ignore.

Despite the night’s excitement, he had calmed and now felt pleasantly drowsy. He switched off the lamp and climbed back into bed. Lying beneath the covers, he heard the cat empty both bowls and drink some water. Then it leapt up to his bed, curled at his feet, and went to sleep.

The wind continued to blow, and the attic walls creaked. Now and then, a tree branch scraped the roof. Nonetheless, drowsiness overtook him, and he fell deeply asleep...

2.

When he awoke, gray light filtered through the window. He checked his watch – ten o’clock. The foot of his bed was empty, a soft depression still visible in the blankets, so he undertook a search for his newfound friend. He looked everywhere – inside every cabinet and closet, upon every shelf, behind the books of his bookcase, inside the bathtub, beneath his bed, but the cat was nowhere to be found.

Eventually, he noticed thin scratches along the edge of the windowsill and strands of black fur clinging to the bottom of the sash. His heart sank when he realized the cat had departed while he slept.

Hoping the cat might be lingering nearby, he ventured onto the fire escape, but the cat was nowhere to be seen. The fire escape, the still-blowing trees, and the lawn below were all empty...