Ok, another true story...
Daughter #1 starts pining for a new pet... we'd never been able to keep a dog for long for a variety of reasons, and we needed something low maintenance. A cat seemed perfect, so, as it is never difficult to find a free kitten, we soon had a black-and-white ball of fur living with us.
And what a playful ball of fur it was! Zipping in and out of the garage, teasing the older cat (which BTW is cat #2 from the previous story), generally making a nuisance of herself. Awwww.
I came home one fine afternoon to see my daughter sitting on the basement couch, the ball of fur lying quietly on a towel spread across her lap, my daughter crying her eyes out. The wife pulls me aside and says, "I think you're going to have to put it down. I was putting down the garage door, and it landed on the kitten's head."
Oh joy! In its short time with us I had already grown to loathe the thing, but my daughter WAS genuinely upset, and I was stricken with mercy, so I replied, "Listen, if I'd dropped a garage door on your head, you would lay still, too. Let's give it a day or two and let's see what happens."
Sure enough, the kitten gets up a day later, and though a bit more skittish about the door, appears none the worse for the wear.
A few days later, I enter the basement to see my sobbing daughter, kitten lying on a towel spread across her lap. My wife once again pulls me aside and says, "I think this is really it. I was backing out of the garage, and I ran over the cat."
Yikes! "Well," says I, "it came out of it the first time, so let's wait again." Sure enough, a day or two later it did get up. Two down, seven to go.
Time passed, winter came, and I had to go into town one snowy night. The way my driveway works, I must climb a hill, then make a sharp 90 degree turn left and climb some more. I had a Ford ZX2, great little cars but horrible on snow. I knew I had to hit my tracks perfectly on the drive or I was going to be shoveling it out- and I didn't feel in the mood to shovel. I must say, I lined up the run perfectly, perfect speed, turned at just the right moment, and I have enough smash to get me into the garage without spinning a tire... ahhhhh......
But wait... what's that? Something is wandering into the tire tracks ahead of me... something black and white. It's... it's sitting in the tire tracks! I watched as the idiot cat totally ignored the car coming directly at her. The headlights grew bright in her face as she began licking her paw to wash herself.
At this point I did what I had to do. I whispered a soft "So long!" and bored on ahead. Yup, two soft thumps later I realized she was a champion chicken player. I get the car in the garage and I immediately felt the pangs of regret. Above me was my family eating supper, and I was going to have to go tell my kids the bad news. I turned back out into the driveway to retrieve the body... but wait, no body! Better than that, no blood! How could this be, I know I hit it!? I backtracked to the cat's footprints, and was shocked at what I saw.
There, in the tire track, was the perfect cat snow angel!
Apparently the snow was deep enough to cushion the impact, and the cat was pushed rather harshly into it. Could it have lived? I looked around for the body, and near a basement window I found her. She was licking the snow off of herself, and had a disgusted look, but was otherwise fine. Three down.
Spring came, and one day I came home to see my daughter standing at the end of the driveway, crying. She was looking up, so I am wondering what could be up there that had her upset. I parked the car, walked down the drive and put my hand on her shoulder. Casting my eyes upward I see it... the kitten, about 40 feet up in a tree. It's far too high and far too far out on a limb for me to even think about climbing up to get. The cat was staying until the cat decided to come down, simple as that.
Well, this is the moment I had waited for all my parent life. After sharing a quiet moment I said to my daughter, "Don't worry, sweetie. Ever see cat bones in a tree?"
The cat stayed in the tree all that day and night. The next day when I came home, yup, she's still there. I decide to try parking my van under the tree (in traffic!) and standing on the roof. I was reaching up with a tree pruner, but it was too far to reach. What I did next was the only reasonable thing to do- I went and got my BB gun.
I'm a pretty fair shot, and since I was only pumping it up once, I figure I could make some noise on the branch and scare her back. I was popping the branch in front of her. Nope. Well, maybe if I pop her butt a few times she might get uncomfortable. Nope. Well, maybe if I peck at her front paws she might back down. This actually almost worked. I alternately stung one paw, then another. She'd lift the paw and shake it, then I'd hit the other. She scowled at me and growled, but it became clear I wasn't going to persuade her to come down that way. She'd have to do it herself.
That afternoon, it stormed. It probably rained an inch in an hour, the cat stubbornly clinched to the limb. Oh well, I had been concerned she might dehydrate.
When I came home from work the next day, the kitten was in the garage, nose skinned up a little, but otherwise fine. The little retard has had other adventures since then, but this is already too long.
