Harry the Cat

	On October 4th, 2001 while Shep and I were out doing our miles I heard the plaintiff cry of a cat from high above my head. I looked up and finally spotted a small, pale-yellow kitten clinging for dear life to an uppermost branch of a roadside tree. Now, you know how cats go up trees, but rarely come down without a struggle? Well, I was thinking out the process of going back home, loading the extension ladder into the pickup, coming back and extending the ladder to its maximum height, propping it against the tree in such a way that I could, with luck, grab this kitten—who was obviously scared to death—and then get both of us safely back down to terra firma. While standing there considering the complexities of this problem, I looked up at the kitten in desperation and said: "You get down here!"
Right, as if they ever do. But then the strangest thing happened! This kitten, as if he understood me and the situation completely, immediately started down the tree, and never stopped until he was close enough to the ground that I could reach out and gather him into my arms. The frightened little thing buried its face in the crook of my arm and never moved until we were safe inside my house. My very special cat, Dixon, was killed by some animal on March 24, 2001. The following is from the record I keep on all of my animals: "December 2, 2001, What a joy Harry is becoming. So like Dixon in many ways. Loving, interacts with the other cats well, though he does pester Cleo a bit much. Shep just loves him, and actually got in between the two cats when Junior growled at Harry. But Junior never actually struck out at Harry, and they are actually quite good friends now." And the following: "January 14, 2002, At 5:30 AM today, Harry climbed up to the bedroom balcony for the first time. At least it was the first time I was aware of. (This is the way all of my cats have learned to gain entrance into the house in the middle of the night.) Harry may not have the "scratching on the glass to wake the human so he'll let me in," thing down pat yet, but he's really smart, he'll get it. Good for you, Harry." Harry has since learned the, "scratching on the glass to wake the human," thing. It’s comforting, really, knowing that they can get inside whenever they feel the need to. And better than a cat door, through which that pesky possum—who likes to empty the outside cat bowls of their leftover food—might also gain admittance into our living quarters. And I’m afraid that my love for animals does not extend quite far enough to share my living space with a possum. He’s welcome to live outside and raid the cat food, but that’s it. Harry is still very shy, and always retreats to a safe distance whenever someone he doesn’t recognize comes for a visit. But he shows more of that distinct, "Harry," personality every day. He’s really a very special friend. And, once or twice, he’s actually slept curled up next to me, reminiscent of the way Dixon always used to do. Life goes on, it seems. Written by Jim- Back to Jim's Pet Page