Kat In A Tree

 So this scene out of my afternoon totally reminds me of mom, and seeing as I'm on a muth souvenirs kinda kick lately, I'm gonna share this one too. It's pretty funny on its own merit as well.

My cat is getting to that age where she, in the words of my young sons, wants a boyfriend. She is hitting her estrous stride and has an itch that needs to be scratched.  So to speak.  As I was opening the door this afternoon she darted out of the house. And immediately ran up a pretty sizable tree as fast as dem kitty cat claws could carry her.

I was only home to grab a few forgotten items for my trip to Charleston, SC for the weekend. However, I didn't want to leave her outside to get knocked up by these hooligan strays so I decided to climb up and save her from a pregnancy none of us needed that she so desperately and furiously was scheming to make happen. I had just come home from work and as you can imagine was not properly dressed in repurposed curtains for the task at hand. I was instead decked out in my dress down Friday military chic finery: olive drab skinnies with multiple zippers, contrasting flannel, chunky cream infinity scarf, high heel uggs, and mil inspired jacket finished off with dads big green watch and a lapis enamel bracelet from Santa. It's a riff on my katniss weather day garb. Fellow prov teachers you know what I'm talking about.

The boots posed a particular impediment to climbing. The clunky square 3.5 inch heel was perfectly constructed for getting caught where branches conjoined. Undaunted by the clear danger they posed, I scrambled up the tree in my boots.

Just as I was approaching the tree a handsome slightly younger man with a very fine black puppy with white socks and a fine upright gait walked toward me. The man said, "awww poor cat up in the tree," in a deep sing songy voice. My eyes scanned up the tree for the appropriately large limbs to quickly grasp in order to demonstrate my athleticism and lack of need of assistance.

I sped up the tree and retrieved the cat. And proceeded downward. Here's where the trouble began.  I was halfway down the tree when small branches stretched out to poke at my eyes; I maneuvered my face around these slight branches but paying such close attention to them I placed my boot too deeply into a crevice between two branches. My heel got stuck. As I tried to wrestle my heel out of the tree crook, I realized I needed a new place to put my hand in order to have the proper purchase so to finagle that foot out of its current prison. I moved my hand to a Lower branch but this proved to be unhelpful as what I really needed was the full use of both my hands as one was presently occupied by petunia.

Handsome walked up behind me. I began to panic as my mind raced through several scenarios as to what his approach signaled. Was he trying to help me get down. I don't need help. If he did help me was he going to accidentally or not so accidentally grab my derrière as his method of aiding me. Because I hate my rear to be touched and above all I hate it to be surprise touched. Was he going to just stand there and mockingly or even admiringly, depending on his general disposition toward me, take in the view.

It took a wormhole-ish seconds that felt like minutes for me to free my heel. Only to get the toe of the same shoe stuck in the same branch joint.
A few more seconds (centuries) later my toe was free and I jumped from a branch that was slightly too high and landed in the plants below, rather elegantly if I do say do myself - for an old lady in her work clothes.

Handsome looked at me from where he stood no more than three feet away, the perfect distance to indicate one wants to leave your social space behind and enter your personal space with a handshake and exchange of names. He said, "That was pretty impressive!"

I looked at him, smirked, and in my best Jess Day from New Girl voice, replied, "I've climbed a few trees in my day."

Dropped the proverbial mic...(grenade?).

Walked away.

In my periphery I could see him pleasantly standing there, lingering just a few moments, in case I again became sane, decided to act my age and walked back to introduce myself. In your dreams thunder.

Whereas mom had a talent for turning a cat up the tree situation into a social win for everyone and would have thrown a parade including all the neighbors in the festivities and declared it a national holiday - victory over cats in trees day - or handsome men meeting day - I walked away without even getting cutie's name. And doing my dead level best to seem as offensive as possible so that he will never attempt to engage again. Well played, Jess,  kick him in the shins next time.