Cat Rambo Hang

We had parakeets at the time, two lovely sweet little things that we kept in a round-sided wire cage suspended from the ceiling in the den of our apartment. We also had two cats: a grey tabby named Riley and a flame-point named Tristan. This is Tristan's story this time around.

It was yet another cold winter night, so we decided to go for Mexican food. There was usually a long wait at the one in Saranac where we lived then, so we drove to Placid. Same food, same owners at that time, but we seemed to like the one in Placid better anyways. It was about a fifteen minute drive.

Even here in The Great Southwest it's hard to find a chili relleno dish as good as the ones at Desperado's. You would not think that. But it's so.

When we got home, we heard faint cat wailing. That weak, tired, "stuck" sound that meddlesome kitties sometimes make when they've come to a sorrowful situation.

We walked through the living room... no problem there; and through the kitchen, into the den.

Tristan had jumped from the back of a chair and latched onto the bottom rungs of the birdcage, where he was hanging from his paws as if strung up by his thumbs (but yes of course cats do not have thumbs.) His own down-stretched body prevented him from unweighting to unlatch his claws from the cage. He mewed pitifully at us. No telling how long he'd been hanging there. An hour or two maybe.

He turned to appeal to us and one paw did come free, leaving him hanging like Stallone in that mountain movie, from one long tired cat-arm.

As we pulled him to relative safety we laughed and laughed. Kitty hugs and solace for Tristan, while Riley looked on with his usual disdain and disgust, as if he were shaking his head and saying "for shame, Tristan my friend, for shame."

Tristan was lithe. But after that he looked like he'd gotten longer.