Kirk

It was two and a half months ago when I went out to rural Folsom to rescue Kirk, the five-month-old tabby boy who was stuck in a tree next to his house. I did not report his rescue here because I hardly did anything. Kirk got spooked when I shot my line into the tree above him, and he tried to climb down but fell to the ground and ran home. I didn't even climb the tree, and I had no pictures of the activity at all, so I saw no reason to report it. Now, however, Kirk did it again -- same tree, same spot -- and, this time, Kirk gave me the honor of rescuing him in a safer and gentler manner.

Kirk had suffered through some very hot, mid-July days, and he was constantly crying for help with an intense, desperate pleading kind of cry that touches something deep and primal in me. I simply MUST help this sweet, suffering little boy. So I did. I climbed 30 feet up to him near the top of this leaning, but sturdy, River Birch tree, and he welcomed me readily. After our proper introductions, he was ready to step on my lap, so I spread the bottom of the cat bag over my lap first and then encouraged him to step onto it. Once he was fully in place, I pulled the sides of the bag up around him and secured him inside.

I took him down and released him inside the house where Sophie already had some food and water waiting for him. Kirk is doing just fine now, and Sophie and her family can finally relax after spending a very stressful time trying to find a way to get him down on their own.