When James called me to rescue his cat, Inky, I was involved in an urgent project and had just committed to rescuing another cat, Midnight, in Picayune, Mississippi after that. I didn't think I would have enough time to finish the project, drive to Picayune, rescue Midnight, and drive back to Baton Rouge with enough daylight remaining to rescue Inky too. I could hear some disappointment in his voice when I told him that Inky's rescue would likely need to wait till the next morning, but he understood, and I promised to let him know if it worked out otherwise. Midnight had been stuck in the tree for two nights, and Inky had spent only one night in the tree, so Midnight was my priority. 
Fortunately, Midnight's rescue went quicker than I expected, so, as I drove toward home after that rescue, I called James to let him know that I would be able to rescue Inky that day after all. He sounded relieved and happy to hear that.

Inky is a six-month-old, black kitten that was stuck about 40 feet high in a Pecan tree which was growing at the backyard fence line. As I climbed up to her, I was pleasantly surprised to see that she was not frightened or overly concerned about me. When I was able to reach my hand up and place it on her limb, she readily walked up to it to give it a good sniff. After a minute of the usual formalities, she seemed ready to make friends with me. I was soon petting her, and she appeared perfectly comfortable with me. From there, it was an easy progression to bagging her, and she handled it very well. I gave her some more reassurance while holding her in my lap, and then we went down.

Back on the ground, I handed the bag and Inky to James who took her inside the house. When he came back outside while I was packing my gear, he told me that his wife, Judy, had been very worried about Inky. He said that she cried when I first told him that I would not likely be able to rescue Inky that day, and she cried again when I told him later that I could. I know better than most just how much a rescue can mean to a person, but, especially when I am very busy with back-to-back rescues, I sometimes forget just how important these rescues are.

After packing my gear and hauling it from the back yard to the street where I was parked, Judy came outside on her front porch and began to thank me. I don't remember the words she said, but the overflowing expressions of relief, joy, and gratitude were unforgettable. The emotion of her voice and the free and expressive nature of her gestures and body language spoke volumes, and I have never felt so fully and beautifully thanked for a rescue before. Judy touched my heart and reminded me why these rescues are so important, and I really needed to hear that at that moment. This is why I do this. Thank you, Judy, for reminding me.