Benson
I don't like using the catch-pole, but I had no other choices in this situation. The unhealthy, slender tree was one-sided and leaning, and Benson went up near the top of the stem where I could not go without breaking the entire stem. A bolder cat would have come down closer to me, but Benson is not a bold boy, and he sat stubbornly there waiting passively for me to come to him. He is a friendly, gentle boy and would have welcomed me if I had come to him, but we were at an impasse.
I expected him to handle the catch-pole in a docile manner as most tame cats do, but he hated it and fought it. He grabbed the limb so tightly that I could not pull him away. When I finally managed to pull him loose, the extra momentum of the release of his heavy weight at the end of the nine-foot pole was more than I could handle, and I lost control of the pole and had to let it hang down vertically and let him rest on a tiny limb below me. I decided to let him go there since I knew he could not move anywhere on that small limb. He stayed there terrified and crying loudly while I spent some time getting myself reorganized and ready to descend to him, but he had calmed down once I got near him. I expected him to hate me and be violent with me, but he wasn't. He hated that pole, but he didn't associate it with me. He actually let me pet him, and I was very relieved to see that. The best thing at this point was to drop the cat bag over him and pull him off that limb while securing him inside the bag, so that is what I did, and he handled it very well. I took him down, handed him to Lisa, and she took him inside. His long, traumatic day was finally over, and he was happy to be home where he could finally find some peace, safety, and comfort. Rest well, little Benson. You need it and deserve it.
