I had some confusion about his name. Some of the people who had gathered to watch the rescue told me his name was Bubba. Later, however, his mom told me it was Ringo, so that is what I am calling him now.
Ringo's rescue is the kind I love. He knew exactly what to do, and he did not hesitate doing it. He had walked out to the end of a branch, but once I reached his level, he walked back down to greet me. He was a friendly little boy and let me pet him. He readily took to the food I offered him, and when I placed the food in the carrier, he did not hesitate to walk in and let me lock him inside. He didn't complain once, even when he was bumped around a bit on the ride down. A perfect rescue: short, sweet and safe.
After the rescue, I went home, and it was then that I realized I had left my carrier behind. When I went back to get it, one of the sweet little girls thanked me again for rescuing their cat, and then she asked me if she could give me a hug. "Well, of course," I said, and she gave me a big, sweet hug. What an honor. What a reward. I don't understand why everyone doesn't want to do this.