Wrapped Up in Christmas Joy

“Meow.”

This time, she realized the sound came from overhead. Sophie searched the branches of the old oak trees that lined the street, illuminated by the streetlights.

“Meow.”

“There you are.”

Way up in the branches, the half-grown cat paced back and forth, looking distressed.

He was stuck in the tree. She’d heard of that happening, but had never expected to experience it in real life. Eek. No way could she leave him up there.

Looking at the limbs, Sophie calculated whether she’d be able to climb up to get to the cat. He appeared to be about fifteen feet up, maybe a little higher. There weren’t any really low branches on that tree, but the tree next to it had several large, low ones—and then higher branches that reached over into the other tree’s space. If she climbed up the one, then crossed over, she thought she could then make it up to where the cat was.

The cat meowed for help. “I’m coming, baby,” she promised, dropping her bag to the ground and preparing to climb.

He’d stopped pacing and was now watching her as she reached for the first branch. It was a struggle, but she got a hold of it and pulled herself up, snagging her sweater in the process. Ugh. She really liked this sweater, too. Maybe she’d be able to repair it.

“You know, after this, you have no choice but to like me.” Once securely on the branch, she carefully stood, then began climbing. Slowly, but surely, she made her way over to where she could transfer over to the other tree.

“I’m almost there,” she assured the cat before glancing down. She immediately regretted doing so as a wave of vertigo hit her. The branches hadn’t looked nearly so high when she’d been standing on the street. Fixing her gaze forward, she tentatively made her way through the limbs to the one where the cat perched.

“I’m here,” she told him, realizing he’d have to come to her. His branch wasn’t big enough for her to climb out on. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

The cat blinked, looking a little bored by Sophie’s predicament.

“Um, you’re going to have to work with me. I mean, this isn’t even expecting you to meet me in the middle. I came ninety-nine percent of the way to you. All you have to do is cross, like, three feet to get to me and I’ll carry you down.”

Although, she wasn’t quite sure how she’d manage that, especially if the cat was scared. Maybe she’d put the cat against her stomach and pull her hem up, wrapping him in her sweater to keep him safe until they were out of the tree.

She wouldn’t think about just how high up she was or who was going to keep her safe.

“Here, kitty, kitty. Come to me so we can get out of this tree, preferably with a nice, slow descent.”

He meowed but didn’t budge from where he rested on the branch, watching her. Sophie continued to coax the cat to come to her, but to no avail.

“I can’t stay in this tree all night,” she told the cat, shivering. “For one thing, I’m not wearing a fancy fur coat like you.” Just a medium-weight sweater jacket meant to keep her warm during her short walk home. “Plus, we’re both hungry.”

Obviously, she was no cat whisperer because the cat had the audacity to yawn.

“Don’t you realize I’m here to rescue you?” After all, the cat had been meowing like crazy and pacing prior to Sophie climbing the tree. Now, he looked ready to take a nap. Go figure.

Sophie shivered again. Keeping one hand securely wrapped around a nearby branch, she rubbed her free palm up and down her raised arm. Numbness was beginning to set in beneath the sleeve of her jacket, either from the cold or having her arm extended for so long. How long had she been up there? Maybe she should go back down and call someone to come help the cat. Maybe that’s what she should have done to begin with, she thought as she glanced down and tried to visually retrace the path she’d taken up the tree.

Dizziness hit, hard and fast and fierce.

She squeezed her eyes shut. How had she gotten so high? Had the cat been climbing higher as she’d made her way up? That was the only possible explanation, because the ground was clearly a lot further away than it should be.

She swallowed and told herself to calm down. She’d made it up the tree and she would make it back to the ground. Then she’d call someone to come help the cat. No big deal.

Only when she went to let go of the branch, she discovered that she had a death grip on it and couldn’t seem to let go. Her brain ordered her fingers to release, but they weren’t budging.

Panic began to set in. She couldn’t stay in the tree all night. It wasn’t so cold that she’d freeze, but she’d likely end up sick from exposure. Already she was sniffling and needed a tissue.

She needed help. From someone with a ladder.

Which ruled out her mother and sister, both of whom were probably asleep anyway. Besides, what could they do? Her mother couldn’t climb the tree, and, even if Isabelle could, it wasn’t as if she could toss Sophie over her shoulders and carry her down.

Who had a ladder, a very tall ladder, who she could call at close to midnight?