Breezy

After I arrived at Bridget's home in Denham Springs, Louisiana to rescue her cat, I was talking to her to learn as much as I could about her cat so I would know how best to manage the rescue. Of course, one of the things I want to know is the cat's name. When Bridget told me the cat's name, she paused a bit before telling me the story behind the name. About two years ago, Bridget adopted an eight-year-old boy whose mother had just died suddenly. Shortly after his adoption, the boy asked if he could have a cat, and that is when they adopted a sweet, black-and-white, girl kitty. When Bridget asked him what he wanted to name the cat, he said, "Breezy." She smiled and understood, because his mother's name was Bree.

I always feel pressure to get every cat down safely, but stories like that add even more weight to my shoulders. Breezy is now a year and a half old, and she is stuck just over thirty feet high in a small tree located by the driveway. I could tell how much they all cared about this cat by the stories and troubles they had already been through in their unsuccessful efforts to get Breezy down, and I saw the evidence of their efforts in the tire tracks in the mud leading from the driveway to the tree.

Bridget had to leave for a short while, so I began my work in solitude and had soon climbed up to Breezy who had perched in the crotch where the trunk forked into two vertical stems. She was calm and receptive, so I had no trouble making a new friend there and gaining her trust. There was no place for me to install my rope above her, so I had to approach her using ropes installed below her, and I was limited in how high I could get. My head was almost level with her, and that is good enough for interactions, but it is not adequate for most of the rescue methods I use except for the carrier. I held the carrier above my head and gave her an invitation and opportunity to walk inside, but she wouldn't do it. She was not disturbed by it in the least, but she would not go inside no matter how much I encouraged her.

I needed to go higher in order to be in a better position to get her in the cat bag, so I calmly placed a rope on one of the stems above her. That is an action that often frightens some cats, but Breezy had no trouble with it. With that rope in place, I pulled myself up a little higher, and I could now place my lap in front of her. I covered my lap with the bottom of the cat bag, and Breezy stepped on my lap right away. She curled up against me, and I held her there for a minute before pulling the sides of the bag up around her and securing her inside.

Bridget had not yet returned, but before she left, she told me I could let Breezy go on the screen porch. I took Breezy down to the ground and set her down gently on the floor of the porch. I lowered the bag around her and gave her a minute to see where she was and to feel free and safe again. She rubbed against my legs as I gave her a few last pets, said good bye to her, and began to pack up just as Bridget returned with her family. They all were happy to see Breezy safe on the ground again, and I left feeling much lighter now that all that weight was not on my shoulders any longer.