Booski

It sounded like such a quick and easy rescue. On the phone, Brian explained to me how his seven-year-old cat, Booski, was only 12 feet high in a tree near his house which was located less than 15 minutes away from me. It sounded like all I would need to do is place a ramp on Booski's limb and wait for her to come down on her own. Booski had already spent two nights in the tree and was getting a bit stressed and feisty, so it would be best to give her some space and a way to come down on her own terms which is exactly what a ramp to the ground would do. She would surely come down the ramp and go straight back home.

I loaded the ramp on my car and headed over there. When I arrived, I met Brian and found Booski sitting pretty and sweet-looking on a very short limb only 12 feet high. I still thought this would be quick and easy, but I forgot how hard it is to assemble and lift a heavy, 22-foot long ramp up into the tree. Brian had warned me about the mosquitos, but that is a standard expectation here, especially during rainy weather days like we have been having. However, in the area near the tree, the mosquitos were especially thick and swarming on this hot, humid and airless morning, so I was not having a happy time struggling to lift the ramp into position. I was sweating and swatting vigorously, but, with Brian's help, we finally got the ramp into position on Booski's limb. During the process, I learned just how feisty Booski could be. She did not like anything, including the ramp, coming anywhere near her, and she expressed her displeasure with hissing, spitting, loud screams and swatting. The ramp had no trouble handling her abuse, but I would not want to be near that ferocious savagery myself. With the ramp now in position, all I needed to do was wait and give her time to adjust to it and then use it. I sent Brian back inside, and I sat in the car to watch from a distance. Booski settled down a bit and sniffed the ramp thoroughly, but she wasn't making any attempt to use it. I decided to leave and just give her some time to adjust. I was sure she would take advantage of the ramp, but I just didn't know when. Brian would watch and keep me updated.

The next morning, Booski was still in the tree, and that marked the end of my Plan A. Still, I had a Plan B, and it won't be hard to get her down. I will just use my long-handle net to try to scoop her up into it. If she falls off the limb instead, as often happens with the net, then she will likely handle such a short fall just fine and run back inside the house. I placed the net between Booski and the trunk of the tree because I wanted her to move out toward the end of the limb just as all cats would normally do. If we get lucky, she will lose her footing on the thin twigs at the end and hang by her front claws, and at that point, it will be easy to scoop her up into the net. Things didn't quite go according to plan. Unlike all other cats, Booski didn't move away from the net. She lunged toward it with a vicious, loud scream and a ferocious swat. She held her ground, and when the net moved toward her, she went on the offensive and attacked it. It took repeated attempts to get her to retreat, but she was giving up only a few inches of territory, and at that point, the vines and spreading limbs were making it impossible to move the large net toward her any farther.

Scaring her out to the tips of the limb was not working, so it was time to move on to Plan C. I propped the net in place to prevent her from going back to the trunk of the tree, and then my hands were free to use a pole saw to cut the limb to make her fall to the ground. That, too, did not go according to plan. As I cut the limb, the limb drooped into a vertical position but was still attached. Booski clung to the limb and instinctively climbed upward while I rushed to finish cutting the limb to make it fall free. Something I could not see was preventing me from cutting the rest of the limb, and Booski had time to reach the net which was still there but not sufficiently blocking her path back to the trunk. I returned to the net to hold her in place, but she somehow managed to get around it and start climbing higher up the trunk. There was a large oak tree nearby with a long, arching branch that rested against the trunk of Booski's tree, and she got on it and walked out the long branch and stopped on the the level section halfway between the two trees. She plopped down there with an air of victorious superiority and sneered with disgust at me and my stupid Plans A, B and C. I should mention that the mosquitos and hot, humid, sweaty conditions were all still in play during this entire drama.

It was time for Plan D, but I didn't feel confident about it. I would need to climb the large Oak tree and set a trap on Booski's long branch. There were two reasons why I lacked confidence in this plan. Normally, when I set a trap in a tree, it is set between the cat and trunk of the tree so that the cat has no place to go except toward, and hopefully in, the trap. In Booski's case, she could go back to the original tree, or she could just stay where she is on a large, level and relatively comfortable branch. The second reason I was skeptical was Booski's attitude. She attacked anything that was near her, so she is not going to go close to the trap, or, if she does, she will swat at it first and cause the trap door to fall closed while she is still outside the trap. I may need to set or refresh the trap several times before she adjusts to it enough to actually go into it. I proceeded to install the trap anyway, but when I climbed up to Booski's branch, she did not do like all other cats and move away from me. She held her ground, lunged toward me, and swatted at me with loud screams. I had originally planned to set the trap on the first level part of the branch where Booski was resting, but after seeing how hostile she was, I decided the trap would work just fine on the closer and safer angled part. It was a little scary and loud, but I installed the trap and left while wondering if the neighbors were calling the police to report a cat being tortured somewhere in the neighborhood. I went back to my car and watched from a distance in case Booski decided to surprise me and go into the trap right away, but she didn't show any interest in it at all. She settled down for a nap far from the trap, so I left knowing that Brian would be watching. It's hardly worth mentioning, but the mosquitos and sweaty conditions continued to contribute to the misery of all this activity.

I didn't hear anything from Brian the rest of the day or night, and I was unable to get in touch with him the next morning. I drove over there not knowing what to expect, but I was surprised and greatly relieved to find Booski safely inside the trap. She looked down at me and growled some unprintable obscenities, but I was very happy to see her. As expected, she expressed intense objection to my presence so close to her in the tree, and, again, I wondered what the neighbors must be thinking about all these loud screams. I was careful to keep my hands as far as possible from the trap while I loosened the straps which were holding it tightly in place, and I carefully lowered her to the ground. The screaming continued while I carried her back to her house, but she is now quiet, safe and happy back inside her home again. It may be hard to believe that this potent, hostile beast is a sweet, docile kitty at home with Brian, but that is indeed the case. She likes to sleep beside him at night and sit with him and purr while he pets her, so she does have a sweet side. I'm sorry I never got to see it because, otherwise, this difficult three-day rescue could have been accomplished in one, easy hour, and she would have spent a total of only two nights in the tree instead of four. Not to mention saving me a few hundred mosquito bites and several quarts of sweat.

I have no pictures of Booski in the original tree. After all, I was not expecting this to last long or even be a rescue worth reporting. However, the first picture says it all. You can see the ramp to the right still resting on the first limb after it was partially cut. Booski climbed from that limb up the trunk to the branch where she is now resting, swishing her tail, and quietly daring me to come closer.