I first rescued this sweet, orange tabby two years ago, and, when I asked about his name, I heard his owner say, "Casey." Two years later, when I rescued this cat the second time, I learned that I had misunderstood his name. His name is really "KC" which stands for "Krazy Cat." That is why his name for his first rescue is Casey, but his name for this second rescue is KC. Both rescues are for the same cat, an adorable, bobtail, orange tabby boy in Slidell who is now four years old.

When I arrived at KC's house and walked to the front door to ring the doorbell, I could hear KC crying off to the side. I could not see him, but his cry of misery and desperation went straight to my heart and drew me toward him. This is the kind of cry that affects me in an emotional way and forces me urgently to go help him as soon as possible. It energizes me with great strength and endurance even if I am already tired. Fortunately, I was not already tired. Indeed, I was fresh and ready to go, and that was a good thing, because it turned out that I needed lots of energy to rescue KC.

It took some time and a pair of binoculars to locate KC. We knew he was last seen in a tall Sweetgum tree just inside the tree line of the wooded area next to the house, and we could certainly hear him, but I didn't want to climb the tree until I knew for sure he was still in that tree and not another one. It was only when I used my binoculars that I finally found him. He was 55 feet high hidden by the foliage near the tip top of the tree, and all I could see of him was his big eyes staring right back down at me.

Since the tree was growing in a wooded area where it was competing for sunlight, the tree grew tall with almost all the foliage at the top. Down below, the limbs were few, small, and vine-covered, and I had no place to install my rope from the ground. I would have to climb the entire tree using a slow, strenuous method, but, with KC constantly crying, I had the motivation to do it. All around the base of the tree were several vines and wild roses, and it was quite a painful experience to clear a space to work under the tree with all those thorns constantly snagging my skin, shirt and gear. The roses grew very high into the tree, so I could not escape the thorns until I was 35 feet high at which point the muscadine vine began to dominate. This was not the most miserable climb I have done, but it is certainly in the top ten.

When I finally climbed high enough to see KC for the first time, it was clear that he was higher than I could safely go. He was in the twiggy top, and I needed him to come down a bit in order to reach him. The first time I rescued him in another tree, he was so excited to see me that he came down to me once I got close, so I had great hope that he would do that this time too. Fortunately, when he saw me getting close, just as before, he was suddenly excited enough to find the courage to begin coming down the skinny stems toward me.

Going head-first, KC stepped, slid, and dropped short distances at a time while I struggled to move up higher at the same time. He reached me before I was ready for him, and I supported him while he slid and stepped down onto my one-legged lap. There was not much room on that one leg, and he was too excited to sit still. I quickly got my cat bag ready, slipped it over and around him, and secured him in the bag for the ride back down to the ground. KC wasn't crying anymore, and my heart could finally rest knowing that he would soon be back home, comfortable and safe.