in the muddy outside world Deets could not find a place to dookie. she was whining all about it, but I didn’t know how to help. an indoor cat box just doesn’t do it for this kitten. I followed her around outside and enjoyed the walk while she complained. there’s simply nowhere to dig! after a half hour, Deets finally found a dry spot underneath a copse of stalks of tree like a giant bush. these not-quite tree trunks in a bunch set a foot-ish apart from each other sometimes more and each of them has 1 million little not-branches coming off of it. a soda can circumference covered in little twiggy sticks, all of it dry and brittle. Deets does her dookie and covers the hole then immediately, before I can react at all, scampers up one of those lame trunks, leash catching all the way up behind her like reverse plinko. the leash is immediately enmeshed in all these little twigs, the fated tangle behind and above Deets so when she finally gets stuck, she just dangles there. at the top of the tree. more than ten feet up. no one is happy about this.

obviously I immediately start trying to get to her. every attempt I make is an immediate failure, forcing me to stop myself. the sticks and twigs everywhere make even getting to Deets’ chosen trunk tricky. my first workable thought is to bend the whole thing toward me using my weight to bring it down. I try that and get pretty close but not quite, now in danger of catapulting Deets elsewhere, if only she wasn’t caught. either way she’s super uncomfortable now, scrabbling against whatever little holds she hasn’t broken off yet. there’s the additional problem that Deets does not have her tag nor any light attached to her harness and it’s dark, so while unhooking her leash would be ideal for her comfort, not so much for her safety or my peace of mind. now I have to figure out a way to get up to her and after considering going back for a knife to cut my favorite leash, I start to recognize that if all these overgrown bush stalks are bendy and they’re all real close together, I can use them to do a shimmy. this is going to suck. breaking every available stick with every part of my body, I bust through toward Deets and begin bracing myself on the trees around her. this activity is so much louder than I’d like, and I’m sure my clothes will be ruined. I start against one trunk with my right foot and when I’m finally braced, I’m leaning most of my weight onto my right leg with my left planted almost directly behind me, knee bent to at a right angle. now all my weight is pushing against these two stalks of tree and, again breaking stick after dry stick, I start to shimmy, and to pull myself by hand up Deets’ tree. slow and unsteady, I manage to scramble a few feet off the ground where I can reach my kitten. so excited she can’t wait, Deets jumps into my free hand and onto my shoulder, gaining not quite enough purchase so that I have to use that hand to hold her. she can’t stay by herself because of the leash.

the leash is still tangled and I still can’t reach high enough to fix that. I need my free hand to climb. Deets needs that hand to hold her. all the while my feet are in my favorite hiking shoes, slowly crushing more twigs as the trees resist my plan. I resettle my weight, bracing. this is trickier than I’d hoped. now it’s about not panicking: I’m realizing that if I go down, I’ll hit so many different sticks. it will be a very slow descent and mostly just hurt my clothes and maybe my hands and face. I am now aware that it’s possible I wouldn’t be injured at all. okay. reset, look around, shimmy as I explain to the barely-supported cat that I’ve gotta use my hand. I tug as much slack as I can from the intertwisted leash and kinda just.. let Deets go.

this brave little creature! not inelegantly, she tumbles from my shoulder and lands on my left calf, flexed and propped against the tree. she tries hanging on there desperately, not using claws and thereby struggling mightily for a hold. I am bracing for the sharp puncture of little talons, even as I work toward untangling the leash. Deets clings to my leg just a few feet above the ground while I struggle just below the catch point of the leash. this cat doesn’t cry or make any noise or use her nails, not once. I manage to gather more slack and finally drop Deets to the ground, easily, where she waits, not impatiently, recovering. keeping myself propped up there starts to get pretty intense. I am fatigued enough to be shaking as I attempt to change positions but ultimately only shift my weight. fumbling now more hastily I wrest the leash free just as my right leg starts to cramp. adjusted finally, I announce aloud, “Good job, now get to the ground.” the chorus of snapping sticks that accompanies my descent is an angelic symphony.