By Stacie Zinn Roberts
Early this morning, our cat, Penny, got herself stuck up high in a tree. My husband, Rob, found her, mewling and crying in loud, pitiful howls. The tree was a tall, young cedar that Rob had limbed up well above our roofline. She’d climbed so high up into the leafy tree canopy, the only indication she was there at all was an orange tail flicking amongst the greenery—that, and of course, the howling.
Rob climbed the tree and tried to grab her but screamed out in a wail that only cats can make, and she hissed at him in fear. He climbed back down.
Already late for work, as he backed his truck out of the garage, he rolled down the window and told me that she’d probably figure out how to get down once dawn broke. And if not, he’d climb back up in a few hours and grab her.
As he drove away, I stood at the base of the tree and looked up. Just below the leaf canopy, a stubby, leafless branch protruded not six inches out perpendicular from the tree trunk. Our fluffy orange and white tabby sat precariously perched on that branch like a perturbed parakeet. I called up to her, “Just come back down the way you went up.”
She jostled and cried again. Then slowly, gingerly, she maneuvered her paws off of the perch. The first step was the most difficult. With a little leap, she flattened herself spread-eagle against the tree trunk and slid a few frightening inches down the bark. Whimpering all the while, she dug her claws into the tree and climbed down, paw by paw, like a reluctant lumberjack. Reaching the base, she jumped down and ran up the hill to our backyard.
I don’t know why she climbed so high up into that tree. Perhaps another cat or coyote chased her, or maybe she was chasing a squirrel. Somehow, to her, it just seemed like a good idea at the time.
Life’s like that, not only for cats, but for us, too.
Sometimes you find yourself stuck up a tree and the only way down is to retrace your steps. Sure you can whine and cry when you realize the predicament you’ve put yourself in, and sometimes a comforting, friendly voice at the base of the tree can coach you into a brave move. But in the end, only you can undo what you’ve done. You can sit on your perch for a morning or for months. But eventually, it’s you who must take that first perilous leap down.
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Stacie Zinn Roberts is a nationally recognized, award-winning writer and marketing expert with more than 25 years of experience. She has won more than 40 national awards for her work including the United Nations Environmental Program for retail environmental marketing, as well as from organizations such at the Public Relations Society of America and the Turf & Ornamental Communicators Association. She’s written for industry publications such as Golf Course Management, Sports Turf, Golfdom and PR Daily. She spent eight years as the president and director of marketing for Environmental Turf, where she developed the branding for SeaDwarf Seashore Paspalum, the grass that eventually became the greens grass for the Rio Olympic Golf Course. Stacie served for six years on the Board of Directors of the Florida Turfgrass Association as Chair of the Research & Scholarship Committee where she worked closely with the scientists from the University of Florida’s turfgrass breeding program. Stacie founded What’s Your Avocado? Marketing & Public Relations in 2012.
Pretty Penny in a tree. Penny staring down at me. But after Penny cries and moans. She will trace her steps back home.
This a good story about Penny and life. Thank you for sharing!
Now that’s a fine piece of writing, Rebecca! Love it! Thank you for adding your creativity to the piece. You’re awesome!!!
I like the analogy of this story to life itself. Sometimes its our own fears and doubt that get us so far from where we should be in life.
Thank you so much, Paul. It’s so true! I think that fear is the one thing we’re meant to overcome in order to be who we are meant to be in life. Thank you!!!