As I said, Tinkerbell is a little slow, at best. Just this morning she started to fall off the bathroom counter for no apparent reason. She saved her self from the 2 foot fall by latching onto my ring finger with one claw. I now have a tiny puncture wound. Tink is constantly looking out of windows and doorways, begging to be released into her “natural habitat”. Like most cats she is painfully curious, and her two attempts to exist outside for more than five minutes have ended disasterously.
When I was in college, I lived in an apartment with a few roommates, which I think is pretty “pathet”, or “really cool way to live”. One night, as a roommate was leaving, Tink snuck outside. We were living on the edge of San Marcos at the time, and everything around was a cactus-y wasteland. Hubby and I didn’t notice she was missing until the other cat, Mudface, started looking for her.
We went outside with her jingle bell toy, calling her name and asking the neighbors if they’d seen her. We looked for 45 minutes or so, then headed back to the apartment, preparing for a serious search and rescue effort into the scrub lands. Hubby heard a pathetic mewing coming from a holly bush, three feet from our front door. Tink had achieved her goal of reaching the outside world, then panicked, and hid in the closest place possible.
The second time she was outdoors was much, much worse, but it makes for a funny story now. She was sick, and we were driving from Houston to San Antonio at night. She started acting really odd and twitchy, like she had to use the bathroom. I had the bright idea that we should pull over at the next rest area and see if she would go on the grass. I hadn’t had cats very long at this point in my life, or Tinkerbell in particular, so I had no idea how ridiculously stupid I was being.
She took off towards the woods. Hubby and I ran wildly after her, but to either side so we wouldn’t scare her into running further away. The area was partially lit, but she headed for the dark area, with a lot of trees, and who knows what else. Thankfully, she ran up a tree. Like 20 feet straight into the air. Then she sat up there and cried.
We called the local sheriff who showed up 45 minutes later and determined that we needed the fire department (Cat up a tree, and we need the fire department? I can see I’m not the only clever one here!). The “fire department” showed up another 30 or 45 minutes later.
When I say “fire department” I mean “two guys in a Toyota pick up with a ladder tied to the top”. It was a small town, but this was still less than comforting. The one guy put on his whole fire fighter suit, complete with helmet, before he would climb the ladder to get my retarded kitten. I can only assume he didn’t have a lot of oppotunities to use his gear, so he was probably really excited, and wanted to look professional.
He climbed the ladder and rescued her, and it was super dramatic and heart wrenching. We eventually got her home, and she was fine. She still tries to talk me into letting her outside periodically, but I have learned my lesson quite thoroughly.