Sir Eddard Covington Marsh Puff-Puff the Fourth

The branches scratched his arms as he climbed. He could hear Mrs. DiLeonardis below as she yelled out in a raspy voice.

“You’re not there yet, he’s further up. More to the left!”

He put his left hand onto a branch and tested it for strength before pulling himself up.

“Your other left!”

Other left? He was ten feet up in a tree, facing the same direction as her? He couldn’t see much through the foliage and tangle of branches, but he reached out towards a likely branch with his right hand and stepped over and up a few more branches. He looked up and could just peek a gray tail, swishing as the cat completely ignored the scrawny pre-teenager climbing the tree below him.

“What’s his name Mrs. D.?” He called down through the branches. He was close enough that if the cat decided it wanted help, it could take a few easy steps down and then he could lower himself carefully.

He wasn’t exactly sure how he would get down with one hand carrying the cat, he wasn’t even sure why he was up in this tree. One minute he’d been walking home from the bus stop and the next he’d been accosted by a frantic Mrs. D. in her nightgown (in the afternoon?) and wearing a single rubber boot, pleading for his help. He hadn’t seen her in a few months, the winter kept the older residents on the street inside, it was cold and slippery. But spring brought them out in small groups, walking together, gossiping, laughing as they slowly circled the neighborhood.

Initially, he’d thought something had happened to Mr. DiLeonardis, but nope, one of her cats had run down the street and up this tree. Instead of remarking on the utter lack of cat skeletons found in trees, or some other snarky remark about the cat just looking for some peace and quiet, he followed her to a tree and asked her where the cat was.

“He’s up there, I saw him run up.” He had climbed and searched for ten minutes before he heard a meow from an adjacent tree and peered across the gap to see a large gray cat staring at him, as if wondering why it looked so difficult to climb the tree.

“He’s up there, I saw him.” She repeated looking at him, unblinking. “I saw him.”

And now here he was in the other tree, staring at the butt of the same cat, pondering how he was going to get himself, or the cat down.

“What’s his name Ms. D.?”

“Sir Eddard Covington Marsh Puff-Puff the Fourth” She yelled up

“What?” Had there really been three other Eddard Covington Marsh Puff-Puff cats, and why was this cat knighted? How had he contributed to Great Britain from suburban Indiana?

“Do you call him something shorter?”

“Eddard!”

He turned to the gray butt staring at him from the branches just above his head and out of his reach. “Edward, come here little kitty” The cat slowly turned around and stared at him, then slowly stood up, padded a small circle like hanging out on a branch 15 ft up in the air was the most perfectly natural place for a cat to be, then lay down, this time facing him, slow blinked and stared before resting his head on his paws.

“Edward” He tried again.

“His name is Eddard, no fucking w” Ms. D. yelled up from the ground.

He shook his head, no fucking w? He tested the next branch to put his foot on. The cat was a little out on a branch, but he was sure he could reach it with his right hand without endangering himself too much. As he slid closer the cat gazed at him, interested in why this human was so far up in the tree. One more step, he could feel the branch slightly bending under his feet, he got a good grip on another branch with his left hand as he prepared to stretch out and grab the cat. He knew better than to just grab the cat and pull him close. A pissed off 20lb fur ball 15 ft up in a tree was not a recipe for success, so he slowly reached out and let the cat sniff his hand. Eddard–no fucking w apparently–sniffed, nuzzled his face against his hand and then laid his head back down. He slowly stroked the cats head, down to its neck, picturing how he would grab the nape of the cat's neck when it was time. He kept petting it.

“Does he scratch or bite Ms D.?”

“What”

“Is he nice, or will he attack me?”

“Oh that one, hell gnaw your knuckles off and claw out your nostrils if you get too close.” There was a pause, he couldn’t see her through the leaves but he could hear her padding around in her single boot, shuffle, clomp, shuffle clomp. “Whats taking you so long! Stop being lazy and get the fucking cat down!”

What the actual fuck? How was he supposed to get this stupid cat down? And why was she swearing so much? He’d only heard her swear once in his life and that was years ago when she’d tossed down the hose and it had landed with the nozzle pointed at her and the handle had depressed hitting the ground. She’d gotten soaked and yelled a few pointed swear words before laughing and picking the sprayer up off the ground. He’d been young enough to recognize the words back then; the other boys in his class had whispered them when they thought the teacher couldn't hear. Ms. D. turned as red as her tomatoes when she turned around and saw him gaping at her from atop his scooter.

“Oh Mark, I do apologize. Such language! I don’t understand what came over me. I am so embarrassed. Come here, have a cherry tomato and we’ll pretend you didn’t hear my best sailor impression.” He grinned at her, her tomatoes were always juicy and slightly sweet and it was funny to see an adult, clothes and hair soaked smiling at him. They’d shared a laugh and some tomatoes before he scooted off down the sidewalk towards his house, just a few doors down.

Mark blinked. He looked back at the cat. “Okay, Eddard. No fucking w. Come here.” Eddard stared at him, licked the back of his paw, stood up, stretched and then carefully padded across the branches onto his shoulder. Relieved, he shifted his weight to get back into a more secure position for the descent when Eddard simply jumped from his shoulder to another branch, then another, and expertly descended from the tree before alighting onto the grass, avoiding Ms. D.’s outstretched arms and trotting up the block towards home.

“Thank you Ryan!” Ms. D. hoarsely yelled as she walked up the street “get back here you gray puff-puff bastard!” she screeched.

Ryan? Who was Ryan? His name was Mark, Ms. D. had babysat him for years. Her and Mr. D. were always there, with a present on his birthday, lemonade on the hot days, and hot chocolate on the snowy days.

He carefully climbed down, leaping the last few feet before seeing that Ms. D. was halfway down the block in the opposite direction of her house and Sir Eddard Covington Marsh Puff-Puff the Fourth.

“Ms. D!” He called, still a bit winded from the climb, “Ms. D!” She kept walking in a lopsided stride due to her single boot. He ran after her and shortly caught up with her just a few houses down. “Ms. D., Eddard went that way.” He pointed down the street, towards her house.

“Well shit, here I am walking the wrong direction. Don’t know what came over me. Thank you Ryan, you were always a good kid.” She turned around and plodded for a few steps before turning back to him. “Can you walk me home? I, I…” She locked eyes with him.

“You what?”

“I, I’m just tired” She glanced down at her outfit, the single boot and started laughing. “Look at me, in my rush I forgot to get dressed, or find my other boot, I don't know, I am such a mess today.” She laughed again before reaching out and grabbing his arm. “Please walk me home Ryan.”