The Other Side of the Window

It was a very warm Saturday in June 1992 and the mother was recuperating after being hit by a car. Trying to make sure that she was OK and work had me frazzled.

And on this particular day, I had to work, thanks to my boss at the time who had volunteered me for a several-month project that culminated with a huge event that day.

I got an early start and then dashed home to check in on the mother around mid-day. “I keep hearing a cat,” she told me. I heard it, too, but since birds often mimic cats, I didn’t think too much of it. I got the mother some lunch and prepared to leave.

As I walked toward my car, I heard a greater sense of urgency in those cries. I threw my stuff in the car and walked toward the sound.

I looked in the tree that is just beyond our property line, but because it was in full bloom, I couldn’t see much of anything, yet the cries kept getting louder. All of sudden, my eye caught something dark mid-tree. It was a tiny tail! There was a kitten in the tree! I ran back inside to tell the mother and got a ladder. I was very near the top rung when suddenly, the kitten sensed my presence and darted a few branches higher.

I gingerly stepped off the ladder and into the tree. This time, he didn’t go up, he moved horizontally, out onto a skinny branch. Somehow, he clung to it and the branch didn’t break.
What I didn’t notice was that the mother had ambled outside. She had broken some ribs and messed up a knee and a shoulder, so this took some effort on her part. I returned to the ladder and she yelled, “I can reach it!”

Before I could discourage her, she thrust the cane she was using to the top of the branch, handle side up, and tugged. The kitten couldn’t hang on, and in a split second, I was holding him. He had fallen right into my arms.

When I set him down to go inside – I figured he could use a little milk after his ordeal – he walked right into the house as if he owned it. Though we tried to find him a home elsewhere, he never left.

Until this morning.

Very early this morning, in the hours before dawn, Tigger headed for the Rainbow Bridge. My distinguished old gentleman (right at age 17) who loved to lay in the window and peer out is now on the other side. And, God bless him, he didn’t make me intervene.

Enjoy your freedom, old friend. We’ll miss you.

R.I.P, TIGGER 1992-2009