When I was young, I believed that there was a vast pool of universal energy…maybe one for the dark and one for the light. And I thought that people, through their deeds and efforts were always contributing to one or the other. In my paradigm, whichever pool received the most input would determine the eventual outcome of the battle of light versus dark. 

           I am older now and I forgot about that until four days ago. This is the story of a little tree-lined neighborhood; one where we have a fall Scarecrow Festival at Mary Beth and Michael’s. Where we exchange whatever we’ve got too much of in the garden, and we are experimenting with the best recipe for apple and peach liqueurs.

           It all started the other morning after the big snowfall. I was talking on the phone and idly surveying the snowy scene just out my picture window. I noticed movement in one of the enormous cottonwoods across the street. I tried to focus on what kind of animal it might be, turning uncomfortably in the crux of a large branch and the main trunk. It was at least thirty feet up. At first I thought it might be a couple of amorous squirrels.Too big. Maybe a raccoon. No… too much white. I put on my boots and coat and ventured up to the base of the tree. It was a black and white cat with luminous crystalline eyes staring down at me. “Kitty…kitty…kitty. Here kitty, kitty…”  I called softly. I could read its eyes. They said, simply, “I can’t.” Boy, I know how that feels, I thought. When my neighbor came home he placed a very long ladder against the tree and tried to reach the cat, but had no luck. It had a black nose and a little black goatee. It was getting cold and dark and starting to snow again. So, we went back inside our respective houses. I was grateful to be warm and dry. I thought a lot about how much cats hate being cold and wet.

          The next morning I went back to check if the cat had found a way to descend the ladder. There it sat, miserably sitting and licking its fur while balancing precariously on the branch. By late afternoon it had settled into the little space for the onslaught of snowflakes which had again begun to drift down at an increasing pace. I borrowed a can of tuna fish from my neighbor and climbed to the top of the ladder to coo and coax. I climbed shakily back down, hoping the can of tuna I left up there would not dislodge and baptize me. I went to bed wrestling with the “not-my-problem” dichotomy, wondering how this poor kitty could survive another frozen night.

          The next morning I walked up and down the street asking anyone I saw if they were missing a cat or recognized it. I was about to walk down to the fire station when I saw one of their small service trucks coming down the street. I flagged the woman driving and asked hopefully, “Are you looking for a cat to rescue?” “No,” she replied regretfully after a great deal of discussion. “It’s a liability issue.” I’m sure she too now struggled with “Not my problem,” but I took it as a heavenly sign that she had even been driving down the street.

          I went inside and called the Humane Society and the recording referred me to the Animal Control dispatch. The girl on the other end was not engaged by me description and said simply “Our policy is that it will come down when it wants to.” Oh, it wants to, I thought as I hung up, muttering a few choice words about Norman Rockwell. Police. Firefighters. America. Kittens.

          I called my neighbor, Leah Bradley, a well-known and very imaginative artist. Aside from being talented, she also can lay claim to being “cat rescuer of the year.” She single-handedly has rescued dozens of feral neighborhood cats and paid to have them spayed and neutered. Never have I heard her say “Not my problem.” I doubt she even thinks it. I described the cat to her, hoping she might know where it belonged. “ It looks like a domino” I explained, citing the distinctive black dot on the cat’s nose. “It’s getting pretty dark and cold,” Leah commented as we stood in the street wondering what to do and assessing the options. None came to mind. If the cat was still alive in the morning…

          I got up to look apprehensively out the window. I would have been sick if it wasn’t there and sick if it was. There stood poor, miserable Domino trying to look dignified, smoothing its fur, and trying weakly to balance on the narrow branch. “It’s my problem”, I decided. “If not me, then who?” I prayed for the Domino-effect to kick in, put on my coat and boots and headed out. I walked toward Leah’s thinking about the power of intent. The great energy pool. The passage about if any three of you ask in my name. We decided to walk to the fire station. As she went in to get ready, I wandered along grateful for the beautiful sunshine bouncing off the snow. Just as I reached the corner where Domino stood contemplating its ninth life, a neighbor from up the street came swerving onto my corner drive. She owns “A Place To Be”, I recalled. I struggled to remember her name…Marinella. Just as she jumped out of her car, two trucks pulled up. One was marked “Artistree…your trees are our canvas.” 303-619-1612. I couldn’t believe my eyes! John Debolt, the owner, emerged with rope and carabiners. Out of the smaller truck stepped Randall Sorensen. Arborist Randall’s Tree Service 303-330-7922. He began to hook up all the ropes and equipment. My face must have looked like a little kids at a magic show. It all came together so fast. A nexus of angels willing to step up and make their contribution to the energy pool. More light and light it grows.

          Domino purrs with contentment in Leah’s studio, hungrily demolishing a dish of tuna and dry food. Funny how quickly it all came together. Several people decided it was their problem: Mariella opened the phone book and dialed the first arborist her finger was guided to, Artistree. John just happened to be an animal lover and he called Randall Sorensen who was his best climber and had just started his own business. “ Sure”, said Randall, “we’d do it for free” and the two of them just showed up. No problem.

          Norman Rockwell. Our America. Alive and well and still contributing to the energy pool.

-         By Dana Marshall.

Views: 32

Comment

You need to be a member of MyTown Colorado to add comments!

Join MyTown Colorado

 

Milestones

Milestones are back up! You can submit and view engagements, wedding, anniversaries and birth announcements at Prairie Mountain Media's Milestones form. Obituaries can also be found at DailyCamera.com at dailycamera.com/obituaries.

Badge

Loading…

© 2024   Created by Matt Flood.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Privacy Policy  |  Terms of Service