Cat Rescue Guy

Every cat has a story. Unfortunately, most of the time, we don't know it or know only part of it, and the cat has no way to tell us. Every time I go to rescue an unknown cat, I wish he could tell me his story. I'd like to know why he is in the tree, does he have a home, if he has a home, what his life has been like thus far. When I went to rescue this unknown gray tabby in Denham Springs, I wished so badly he could tell me his story. When I climbed up to him, he readily walked along the limb to me expecting me to be friendly, and he trusted me completely. He was ready to step on my lap right away, so I spread the bottom of the cat bag on my lap first and let him step on my lap. I pulled the bag up around him and took him down. This was one of the easiest rescues I have done. Once we were on the ground, I kept him in the bag so I could scan him thoroughly for a microchip. He was not wearing a collar, so I was hoping for a microchip so I could return this sweet boy back to the ho

I got three phone calls for rescues within minutes of each other, but, fortunately, two of them resolved when the cat climbed down on his own just an hour or two after the call. Friday, the five-month-old black kitty in Ponchatoula, Louisiana was the only one who could not figure out how to climb down on her own, so I went there to rescue her after she spent one night in the tree. Friday was thirty feet high in the tree and easy to rescue. She was happy to see me climb up to her and trusted me readily. After we visited for a few minutes, I spread the cat bag over my lap and motioned to her to come step on it, but she didn't understand that. When I pulled out a bag of treats, she understood that right away. All I had to do was hold the treats off to the side of my lap, and she stepped into place with no trouble. I pulled the bag up around her and took her back down to the ground where her mama, Alex, was anxiously waiting to take her home. Later that afternoon, Alex sent some post-r

A cat this cute with a name like Snuggles just has to be sweet. Well, she is sweet to her family, but to me, she was a stubborn tease. She was friendly as long as I didn't try to touch her. Every time my hand got too close, she turned around and left, and she had a lot of room to roam on this leaning Live Oak stem by her home in Ponchatoula, Louisiana. I had to climb the tree at the end of her stem, and I was very limited in where I could go. I needed Snuggles to come to me, and come to me she did. Often. I lost count, but it must have been over twenty times that she came to me and then turned around and went away every time my hand got too close. She was interested in food, so to get my hands out of the way, I put the food in the back of the carrier and held it up to her. She actually walked all the way inside but jumped right back out before I could fully close the door. After that, she had no interest in the carrier. After much too long trying to win her trust, I finally bagged

Some cats are cooperative, and some are not. Graybone was one of the latter, but I don't blame him. This four-year-old, sweet kitty in Independence, Louisiana was simply scared and generally not very thrilled about strangers. He was 45 feet high at the top of a Cypress tree where comfort could not be found anywhere except in his dreams of his soft bed at home. Footing was precarious, and the risk of a fall was high, but Graybone held on through two nights. He was feeling tired, grouchy, and very vulnerable, and then this stranger showed up there in the tree with him. Little wonder he was not happy to see me. There was no place for Graybone to go, or so I thought, but he walked out on the top limb when I got too close. He was beyond my reach, and I was as high as I dared to go in this tree. I tried to use food to lure him down, but when I held it on a pole in front of him, he was actually frightened by it. That worked to our advantage, however, because as he backed away from the foo

The cat rescue business has been pretty quiet lately, but it has started picking up again beginning with a juvenile kitty whose name I don't know. I will just call him Tangerine since he is a little orange boy. Actually, I'm not even sure if he is a boy because I never got a good look. He couldn't be more than six months old, and he was stuck forty feet high for three nights in a tree at the edge of the wooded area behind Lisa's backyard in Denham Springs, Louisiana. He belongs to Lisa's next-door neighbor who was not home, so I never got to learn anything about him. The only thing that I knew for sure was that he was scared. He appeared to be potentially friendly and cooperative when I arrived, but installing my rope so close above him frightened him down to the next crotch. As I climbed up to him, all I could see at first was his backend, and I could not seem to get him to look at me. I didn't want to startle him, so I kept calling to him. It wasn't until