Little Man

Little Man was in a bad spot in a bad tree. When I climbed just as high as I dared in this slightly leaning, skinny tree in the woods behind his house, I could reach only as close as two feet from him. 
We were at an impasse. Even though he had previously climbed down this top six-feet, angled segment of the tree to where I now was, Little Man would not, or could not, do it again. He was rubbing his head on the tree and was ready to welcome me, but I could not climb any higher without risking the total failure of this poorly anchored tree. After spending a long time trying to convince him to come closer to me, I gave up and went back down to the ground, retrieved my rescue-pole, and climbed back up there to get him. I slipped the noose around his chest just behind his front legs, lifted him out of his perch, put him in a net, and brought him down. This four-year-old boy's three-night stay in the tree was finally over, and he settled back in at home and took a nap on a soft bed with his doggie brother.