Please forgive the pun in the title, which is a reference to a previous post from 2007 when I brought my labrador over to Norway from the States, which is itself a twist of a movie title.

Jan and I feed the area birds. Of course that means the area cats are more than curious about our yard, but with two dogs (our landlord’s big Rottweiler and our medium Labrador) …

… the cats don’t stay around long when they *do* get the courage to sneak up the drop-off behind our apartment to see if they can get closer to those fascinating fluttering creatures.

In late January, my husband popped his head into my home office and said, “We have a cat up the tree.” I went out with him to our “bird feeder tree” to help him see what we could do.

It was much too far for us to reach the cat, but we figured: he got up … he’ll get down. It surprised me that he had climbed that high, but maybe he was chasing a particularly enticing bird. Almost all cats in Norway go in and out of their homes freely; they know how to protect themselves … and if not, well, the reality is that they don’t live very long, especially in this area with the forest behind us.

A couple hours later I saw our landlord’s Rottweiler sniffing around the tree, and looking up, and sniffing again, and realized that he had probably chased the cat up that tree. OK, since he was chased by a dog, that meant the cat is probably scared, so I knew to keep Mac away when we’re out there. He would come down.

It was winter; it got dark early. The wind was really gusty at times. The temps were around freezing. I took the garbage out after dinner and heard a hopeful “meow???” I went to the tree and called up to him, encouraging him to come down to me. He hadn’t before, but it had been hours — maybe he was tired now, and just needed encouragement. He was obviously someone’s pet — he responded to people, he called when he heard the door open.

But nope. He just cried. I hoped he would come down once everyone was in bed and it was safe and quiet; I reluctantly went inside.

The next morning I didn’t want to go out and discover the poor thing was still there … and since the birds were fluttering around the feeder, I figured they were saying it was safe because the cat was gone.

That was wrong thinking on my part.

Jan and I discussed what to do. Our little step ladder doesn’t even reach the bird feeder, and anyway, he and I cannot physically climb trees anymore! Call the fire department? Knowing how self-sufficient cats are in Norway, we’d probably be laughed at. Our landlord is a fireman, but the car was gone so we figured he was either at work, or he and his wife had gone somewhere.

So I got out my camera and took a few photos, and we printed a little sign to put up by the neighborhood mailboxes. Although people generally don’t notice the random advertisements that are stapled there, maybe it would be seen.

Jan had to go into town for a couple hours, and I kept peeking up the tree. Our landlord’s wife came home, pulled out the longer ladder in their garage (but still not long enough to reach the cat), and came over to our side of the house to see what she could do.

She’s a professional body builder and in extremely strong shape … I’m a 55-year old grandma that uses crutches and has trouble walking down our road to the mailbox… the wind was whipping around … I went out to “help” her … (I’m setting this up with words, as I don’t have any photos of the actual events) …

So there we were, me holding the ladder, my friend at the top of the ladder trying to encourage the cat to get down, the cat meowing hopefully but making no effort to even meet her half-way, the drop off to the empty area next to our house yawning below us, and the wind whipping the tree branches and cat’s fur.

“What’s going on? You going to help me?”

Ok, that won’t work. My friend went back into her house and climbed out on the roof. Level with the cat, she took a plank and extended it towards him. Maybe he will walk on that plank to safety? I stood below watching, feeling a lot of helplessness. There are no words to describe how strong my friend is! That piece of lumber was HEAVY, and she was balancing on the slanted roof, hanging on to this l-o-n-g plank while moving it closer and closer to the cat. The wind kept whipping the tree and the plank, but finally she was able to touch the cat with it.

And what did the cat do? Rubbed against it gratefully — my girls and I call it “a cat’s affectionate head butt” — and then, probably because it felt as if the plank was going to push him … he climbed higher.

My friend tried a few more times, but the day ended with the cat still in the tree. She called her husband/our fireman landlord at his 48-hour duty, who said if the cat was still up there the next day when he got home, he’d climb up there and get it.

And so daylight faded towards the cat’s second night in the tree, the dogs sniffed hopefully (by this point, MacKenzie had heard the cat and seen what was happening, and figured out *something* interesting was up there), and another cold and windy night descended. I went off to my Norwegian class, and when Jan and I got home at 8:30 the cat was still up the tree. No one had called in response to our little posting. We could hear the poor thing crying in the night.

And we woke up the next morning to our landlord coming home from a long shift with the Bergen Fire Department and a desire to please his wife — but also a desperate need to rest. Within five minutes he’d gotten up the tree with a burlap bag and his fireman’s thick clothes for protection. This burly Norwegian gently cradled the cat, trying to calm it with voice and food, and was able to get it down.

I didn’t take photos of the actual rescue as that would have been a little intrusive of his efforts and exhaustion, but …. whew. It was a good ending, and I’m glad we were there to see it.

The cat purred and cuddled. Our landlord and his wife took him into their house for water and food. And, the story ends, a week or more later, with Jan talking to a neighbor who lives down towards the fjord. During their conversation they talked about “the cat up the tree,” she commented that she had seen our little flyer way after the fact, and said that it was their kitty who had been gone for a few days … and about the time they began to wonder where he was, in he walked seemingly without a care in the world.

He hasn’t been back to our area since his experience. I think he learned his lesson!

I’ve been owned by three cats, and I adore them. Their independence, their wild-cat behavior, their excitement over canned cat food and catnip, their purr, their affection on their terms. For many reasons it’s not possible for me to have a cat now, but I enjoy my “grand-cats” when I see them, and feel a certain amount of affection for the ones in the neighborhood trying to sneak up on our birds … although, if they get too close, I go chase them off.

I’m glad this story ended well. 🙂