Please forgive the pun, but I don’t think it is going out on a limb to say I’m tired of being stuck in this tree. As I sit here on this rather sticky branch, I am looking down at my judging wife and child and am beginning to have my doubts about a benevolent deity.
It all started with a somewhat minor family emergency. My wife’s cat (note that I said it is her cat and not mine) found itself stuck up in a tree just outside our front door. As the cat is about thirteen years old, I found this quite impressive and a bit funny. Well, my wife did not share my levity of the situation so I was asked/ordered to retrieve the kitty cat or face dire consequences.
So I hauled my almost forty year old carcass up the tree…slowly it turned out… and am now firmly perched about twenty feet high on a thankfully sturdy and solid branch of this now cursed tree. The branches I used to get up here conveniently broke during the ascent so I am now clearly stuck up here.
Reluctantly I asked my embarrassed and annoyed wife to go ahead and call the fire department. To their credit, they did arrive pretty darn quickly. Their sirens blazing, the fire truck and ambulance rolled into our cul-de-sac with an almost theatrical entrance. Neighbors believed the zombie apocalypse had begun so rushed outside their respective houses to see what was happening. The ladder was extended and a big, burly fireman was soon face to face with my increasingly despondent face.
He retrieved the cat and while he was petting her in an oh-so-gentle manner, he said it was his sad duty to inform me that due to a very aggressive firemen’s union collective bargaining agreement, he was only authorized to retrieve the victim that was specifically mentioned in the call to 911. My wife obviously chose the darn cat over me…wouldn’t be the first time.
So off they went, and my wife made sure the cat was safe and sound…and fed and watered… and put into her comfy cozy bed… and had a little red bow attached to her collar. Oh, and then she called the fire department again. They told her the unit was already out on a call but would send someone out shortly.
I apparently lost my temper. I cried out for someone to just get an axe or a saw and chop this darn tree down. I figured I’d survive the “timber moment” of the felling of the tree like Indiana Jones survived the collapse of the big statue he rode in the Well of the Souls in Raiders of the Lost Ark. I angered the “tree people” who quickly discovered the tree in which I found myself ensconced was the endangered South African Numbnut Tree or something like that. They refused to allow it to happen and then chained themselves to my tree. If only I could convince the birds in this tree that now would be an ideal defecation moment I’d be happy.
So here I sit…awaiting rescue from a tree. I look over to the next door neighbors’ yard and I see my neighbor who found himself in a similar situation. I asked him how long he’s been up there and he just shrugged and told me it’s been weeks.
“On the bright side,” said he, “At least I’ve been missing all the darn election coverage.”
So we’ve got that…which is nice.