There will be times - and this is one of those - when I will not be able to perform my duties as a once-every-Sunday blogger.
In these cases, I will resort - as I am now - to providing "first-runner-up" posts, or, in a term more familiar to the tv-watching public, reruns.
The story and picture that follow were originally mailed to subscribers on February 23, 2012.
Enjoy the trip down memory lane, and have a great week!
Karen
Your Tax Dollars At Work
The little black cat with the green eyes who lives at 249 Sherbourne Street has had a bit of a bad week.
On Thursday the 16th, he got chased up the big black willow tree in front of his building by a neighbourhood dog. When his folks tried to coax him down, he was too scared to move. He spent Thursday night in the tree.
On Friday, a guy in an Ontario Hydro cherry picker offered to help, but all that accomplished was to frighten the little black cat with the green eyes even further up the tree. He spent Friday night in the tree, during a snow storm that changed to rain and soaked him to the skin. Poor little cat.
On Saturday morning around 10:00, Bruce and I were getting the place ready for company and we heard the unmistakeable commotion that comes with large emergency vehicles clustered along the curb. Bruce looked out, counted the constables and shrugged his shoulders. Another day in the 'hood.
"I didn't hear sirens," I said, and that usually means that something very, very bad is going down.
The noise of giant idling vehicles continued longer than seemed right. Consumed by curiosity I looked out the front door.
There was a ladder truck backed up as close as it could get to 249 Sherbourne and, on the ladder was a fireman, trying to get as close as he could to what I could see even from that distance was a cat.
I grabbed my camera, got my boots on, and headed out to record history.
The police were there to direct traffic around the ladder truck and to yell at middle aged women with digital cameras to get the hell of the street and the hell away from the "fall zone" of the ladder.
I finally found a spot where I could watch - but not take good pictures; the numerous branches of the tree confounded the auto focus feature - without getting yelled at.
The lady constable who had yelled at me to get away from the ladder stood near me.
I asked her who called in the cat rescue. She gave me the details, recounted above, of how the little black cat with green eyes had spent his last 48 hours. "I called it in," she said, "If it were my cat, I'd want someone to do this."
Shortly after this exchange, the infinitely kind and patient fireman on the ladder finally, after more than an hour of trying, got hold of the cat. We all (there was quite a crowd gathered) clapped and cheered. The local 24 hour news station guy took his camera off its tripod, hoisted it on his shoulder, and moved in for a close up.
As they painstakingly lowered the ladder so as to not take down half the tree and to avoid hydro lines, I crossed to the west side of Sherbourne to be in a better spot to get a photo.
While I waited, two passersby stopped and asked me what was going on. I related the details shared by the lady constable and one said:
"Now that's a story you'd like to read in the newspaper."
And the other said:
"All that, for a cat?"
I couldn't really decide whose side I was on. I'll grant you, it is ridiculous to send in so much public infrastructure for a silly little cat, no matter how green its eyes, or how awful the weather the poor thing had suffered through. But the young fireman (the one looking up in the photo below) who rescued the cat, the lady constable who called in the rescue and the TV guy who got it all on film, and who all went into the building to return the cat to its owner probably didn't think it was so ridiculous.
See photo.
On Thursday the 16th, he got chased up the big black willow tree in front of his building by a neighbourhood dog. When his folks tried to coax him down, he was too scared to move. He spent Thursday night in the tree.
On Friday, a guy in an Ontario Hydro cherry picker offered to help, but all that accomplished was to frighten the little black cat with the green eyes even further up the tree. He spent Friday night in the tree, during a snow storm that changed to rain and soaked him to the skin. Poor little cat.
On Saturday morning around 10:00, Bruce and I were getting the place ready for company and we heard the unmistakeable commotion that comes with large emergency vehicles clustered along the curb. Bruce looked out, counted the constables and shrugged his shoulders. Another day in the 'hood.
"I didn't hear sirens," I said, and that usually means that something very, very bad is going down.
The noise of giant idling vehicles continued longer than seemed right. Consumed by curiosity I looked out the front door.
There was a ladder truck backed up as close as it could get to 249 Sherbourne and, on the ladder was a fireman, trying to get as close as he could to what I could see even from that distance was a cat.
I grabbed my camera, got my boots on, and headed out to record history.
The police were there to direct traffic around the ladder truck and to yell at middle aged women with digital cameras to get the hell of the street and the hell away from the "fall zone" of the ladder.
I finally found a spot where I could watch - but not take good pictures; the numerous branches of the tree confounded the auto focus feature - without getting yelled at.
The lady constable who had yelled at me to get away from the ladder stood near me.
I asked her who called in the cat rescue. She gave me the details, recounted above, of how the little black cat with green eyes had spent his last 48 hours. "I called it in," she said, "If it were my cat, I'd want someone to do this."
Shortly after this exchange, the infinitely kind and patient fireman on the ladder finally, after more than an hour of trying, got hold of the cat. We all (there was quite a crowd gathered) clapped and cheered. The local 24 hour news station guy took his camera off its tripod, hoisted it on his shoulder, and moved in for a close up.
As they painstakingly lowered the ladder so as to not take down half the tree and to avoid hydro lines, I crossed to the west side of Sherbourne to be in a better spot to get a photo.
While I waited, two passersby stopped and asked me what was going on. I related the details shared by the lady constable and one said:
"Now that's a story you'd like to read in the newspaper."
And the other said:
"All that, for a cat?"
I couldn't really decide whose side I was on. I'll grant you, it is ridiculous to send in so much public infrastructure for a silly little cat, no matter how green its eyes, or how awful the weather the poor thing had suffered through. But the young fireman (the one looking up in the photo below) who rescued the cat, the lady constable who called in the rescue and the TV guy who got it all on film, and who all went into the building to return the cat to its owner probably didn't think it was so ridiculous.
See photo.
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