Light Pole Cat

“Those birds are so annoying.” The Bombay cat called Andy was intrigued by the wondrous world beyond his borders. When watching TV through the kitchen window, he would swish his tail and cry out in agitation at the sight of the crows, resident strays, or humans lounging on the patio. Supposedly off-limits to amicable house cats, the landscape was tantalizing and evoked questions worthy of further consideration: What are they bickering about? Who are those cats? WHY ARE MY HUMANS FEEDING THEM? What’s it like to pee in those giant litter boxes? Andy vowed to set paw in this foreign locale and find out for himself.

Despite his apartment captivity, clandestine escape opportunities gradually presented themselves. When the apartment door was left ajar, Andy fled to the basement in defiant rebellion. Never one for stealth, he announced his presence with delighted shouts while scampering down the stairs, like a child unable to contain their excitement on Christmas morning.

Andy loved to burrow under the items scattered throughout the building’s musty bowels and frequent the storage shed crawl space where the freeloading rodents lodged. He was too tempted by wanderlust for any interest in killing mice. That ritual was left to Meryl, the homicidal European shorthair in the unit across the hall, who was known to snap hind legs for pleasure and adorn her Kurtzian compound with severed rabbit heads. Andy would rather spend rainy afternoons watching trapped frogs try to catapult themselves out of the saturated window well. Whenever one managed to do so, he excitedly pawed at the glass, his prominent tail swishing out of control. Unlike the valiant amphibians, he was unable to will his way into a larger world. He had to devise a way to open the basement door leading outside.

For months, he tried to persuade Max and Andrea, his human companions. While they fussed with the washing machine, he sat upright, gaze alternating between them and the rather ordinary looking portal. “Pleeeeeease,” he urged. “Pleeeeeease,” his copper-green eyes widening further. Unsuccessful yet undaunted, he tried a third, even higher pitched, “Pleeeeeease. Overtures ignored, he adopted a tone more suggestive than demanding, “Please?”

The cat’s insistence had become a point of contention between the couple. Both wanted Andy to explore, but they had each experienced trauma when previous pets wandered too far astray: The writhing of his neighbor’s schnauzer as it lay dying in the street and the yelp of her family’s Jack Russell in the clenches of the black lab from the adjacent finca. After much deliberation, they capitulated, but only on the condition that Andy explore outside with the least cat-friendly mechanism ever devised: a leash.

***

Sunshine bathed the patio in a pleasant, late afternoon glow. The fragrance of blossoming peonies blended with the waft of grilled kabobs over the drone of distant lawn equipment. Beet leaves and onion shoots peeked through the spacious garden beds sown three weeks prior. Infant sunflowers struggled to find their footing against the detached garage, whose faded lime coat was being rebranded a painfully bright eggshell blue. Watchful crows perched on power lines as obedient worker bees took flight and landed again in the arborvitae. The dainty shorthair, Grey, scruffy Siberian, Oscar, and pitiful LaPerm, Bonita, who usually visited for their daily meal, remained conspicuously absent, detecting an outsider in their presence.

Andrea sat reading her book, enjoying a respite from the slog of working from home. It had been a whirlwind six months: Finally finishing a marketing degree started a decade earlier in her Colombian life; remotely coordinating worldwide study abroad programs; getting detained by immigration, only to become a naturalized citizen weeks later. Things were finally falling into place, and yet, her anxiety endured. She wanted more: The freedom to get a dog without having to obtain the landlord’s blessing; a larger apartment with a suitable workspace; better yet, a house with a fenced backyard for the dog, and eventually, a child. On this splendid afternoon, she had finally decided to take her cat outside.

No longer did Andy have to chatter at the world while relegated to echo-chambered commentary. He was finally in the television scene he had been watching for years! Andy had entered terra incognita, replete with its curious sights, scents, and sounds, and yet, he felt right at home. As it turned out, the lights weren’t too bright, the moment not too overbearing. Relishing the warmth of the patio stones against his fur, he rolled onto his back and voiced his delight. Andy had the three things he loved most in life: Sunshine, human companionship, and a newfound grass supply that dwarfed the servings he was accustomed to. At that moment, everything was calm.

Without warning, Oscar came bursting through the hedge, darted across the parking lot, and hightailed it over the adjoining fence. Hot on his tail were two German Shepherds, inexplicably unleashed and undeniably unhinged. In their frenzy, the excited canines caught sight of easier prey: A startled and tethered Andy. Immediately, they redirected their malintent toward the well-manicured black cat. With his trimmed claws and docile nature, surely, he wouldn’t offer much resistance.

Cat and human screamed in unison. As he wasn’t able to flee, Andy tried to make himself as large as possible in the face of outright terror. The dogs snarled, bearing impressive teeth that would readily suck the life out of any cat they could dig into. Thinking quickly, Andrea released the leash, and Andy bolted toward the street with the dogs in hot pursuit. In a potentially catastrophic moment, her native tongue came instinctively, “AUXILIO! AUXILIO!”  

Inside the apartment, Max was in the waning minutes of an uninspiring conference call. Like his wife, he was grappling with life’s uncertainties and his own unfulfilled promise. Drifting between part-time jobs and fresh off a master’s degree that had yet to advance anything but his student loan debt, he found himself in a bit of an identity crisis. At this moment, he was only half paying attention. Camera off and microphone muted, he plucked at his guitar absent-mindedly. Suddenly, a distressed cry rang out, prompting him to attention. “AUXILIO!”

Tossing headphones off and racing to the kitchen to identify the cause of the ruckus, he caught a brief glimpse of the fleeing Andy, riled German Shepherds, and wide-eyed Andrea. Dashing around to the front of the apartment, he flung the door open.

As Andy shimmied his way up the utility pole in front of the apartment building, the barking dogs stood on hind legs below, vaulting themselves as high as they could go. “HEY!” Max hollered, the dogs briefly glimpsing in his direction before returning their attention to the ascending cat. “GET OUTTA HERE!” he commanded, trying to sound menacing to hide his anguish. Andy climbed higher and higher, claws digging into the wooden post, gradually lifting himself like a mountaineer wielding an icepick. The dogs fled, called off by the faceless human from whom they had escaped. Said human chose to ignore the stir their pets had caused, opting to slink away undetected.

Andrea joined Max at the base of the utility pole, and together they tried to beckon the cat down. “Andy! Come on, baby!” Andrea called out in agony, tears smearing her mascara like the raindrops thrust off a windshield. Despite their efforts, the tormented cat proceeded upward toward an indeterminate sanctuary. Carefully navigating around the cable, secondary, and neutral wires, he continued his ascent. As Andy approached the electrical transformer, Max and Andrea’s hearts sank. While their knowledge of the utility pole’s intricate components was primitive, their primary concern appeared imminent: Their cat could get electrocuted! Andy momentarily assuaged those fears when he reached the attached streetlight. Exhausted from the mental overload and physical strain of his escape, he perched himself there. To conserve energy, he straddled his torso over the streetlight with his limbs slumping and the still-intact leash dangling ten feet below.

Andrea was the first to think on her feet. Tearing back into the apartment, she grabbed a spare bedsheet, and together the couple extended the makeshift life net in case of a fall. Several minutes passed, and casual passersby began to take notice. A few cars slowed or stopped completely to take in the unusual sight, windows rolled down, passengers and drivers watching the action play out through their phones, some live streaming for incredulous audiences. Less-invested spectators pointed out the humorous sight of a cat perched on the streetlight forty feet overhead and continued on with their day.

Max and Andrea fumbled with their crude fire safety contraption and were eventually joined by some of the neighbors previously watching from inside. As Sara, Paul, and Meg joined the coalition of concerned cat catchers, Thor, the majestic white Maine Coon, looked on incredulously from a second-floor window. He’d heard the boisterous Bombay from below for years but was bewildered by his undue appearance in the vista. “What, what are you, what are you doing, up here?” he wheezed out. It was past time for Thor’s daily Herpes medication.

After twenty minutes, it became apparent that Andy would not abandon his post. He remained frozen in place, the sharp needles of distress pinning him to his unenviable predicament. The physical exertion rendered him inert and his pleas had started to ring hollow. He wished someone would return him to the bay window desk in the apartment below. At this moment, that spot was occupied by another concerned party.

“Come down now!” Lola chattered. Max and Andrea’s recently adopted dilute calico had been kneading the faux fur pillow atop the office desk chair when she sensed the commotion. Though inclined to hide, her instincts were superseded by Andy’s unmistakable anguish. Cautiously climbing onto the desk, she spotted her companion and felt an instant rush of guilt. Too skittish for excessive human interaction and too shy to explore outside her comfort zone, Lola had neglected to join Andy in his forays to the basement. She had endured enough torment in a previous life and was still settling into a world that only sought to love and care for her. Despite Lola’s ingrained anxiety, Andy had been pivotal in helping her slowly emerge. He had been accommodating from the moment they met. Having taken to Andy as a trusted guide to transcend her inhibitions, Lola now yearned for one of their shared grooming sessions to offset this awful tension.

A police car arrived to investigate. Taking stock of the situation, the officers made a few inquiries, but weren’t able to offer much assistance. Their presence seemed to magnetize a diverse assortment of characters. A woman sporting a flat-brimmed White Sox cap and pursed lips sauntered up the sidewalk and scrutinized the scene. Spotting the police officers, she stopped momentarily, turned her head, and spat in disgust before continuing on her way. A second woman, middle-aged, and more focused on the cat’s plight than the resources spent to attend to it, came to consult an emotional Andrea. Wrapping a sympathetic arm around her shoulders in maternal consolation, the two complete strangers stood together, heads bowed in resignation, and wept audibly. Their lament was promptly interrupted by a social media influencer in a stopped car:

“Oh, my gawd, that is soooo hilarious, look at that cat stuck up there! How’s he gonna get down?” she reported, more to herself than her Instagram followers. 

Additional spectators joined the fray, and when a crew of firefighters arrived, spirits were momentarily raised. But it soon became evident that they, too, would be of no practical help, emotional support a nonstarter by this time. To Max and Andrea’s dismay, the firefighters regrettably admitted there was nothing they could do unless electricity were temporarily cut off for a six-block radius, a proposition unlikely to be entertained for the sake of one mischievous cat. Unsatisfied with their story, Andrea demanded they take hold of the life net, a tactic that firefighters had abandoned altogether before many of those present were born.

***

Over in Southwest Portland, Ray was attempting to put out the flames of his own growing conflagration. The small-town Pennsylvania blue-collar had once refined his grit working as a stove tender in the hellhole of Sharon Steel Corporation’s monolithic no. 2 blast furnace. When the longtime community pillar filed for Chapter 11, Ray lost the only work he’d ever known. Subsequently bouncing between dead-end jobs, he slowly descended into the abyss of listlessness.

Ray decided to get as far away from his previous life as possible. He sought refuge in the Pacific Northwest, where he took up work as an electrical technician. Though the pay was good and the work steady, he found maintaining the power lines to be largely thankless: He provided an indispensable service that few dare take on and even fewer understand the dangers of. The 10-20 he received late one May afternoon illustrated the case in point: A cat over in Northeast had gotten itself stuck up a utility pole and no one else could do shit about it.

“On a fucking Friday?!” Ray sighed, postponing tiki lounge video poker to answer the call of duty.

***

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Andrea asked one of the firefighters, sensing hope slowly sailing into the horizon.

As it turns out, the crew had been more invested in this absurdity than previously thought. “One of our guys called Pacific Power,” the firefighter, Davis, replied matter-of-factly. “The nearest technician is out in Tigard. He should be able to go up in the cherry picker and get him once he arrives.” This welcome news came with a caveat: “That is, if he can get here before 6. Usually, the dayshift techs pack it up by then.”

Max checked his phone: 5:47. On a good day, Tigard was a half-hour drive. With the slow creep of transplant traffic encroaching on Portland, during the rush hour commute, 45 minutes seemed the best-case scenario. Nothing to do now but wait and hope the technician hadn’t exhausted his daily deeds as a good Samaritan. Max anxiously glanced up at his now infamous cat. Andy had shifted his limbs into a crouched position, apparently ready to take the leap at any second. “Hold on!” he pleaded, failing to blink away silent tears.

The waiting game persisted for what seemed an eternity, everyone collectively holding their breath through the pitch-black tunnel of uncertainty. Suddenly, a light perforated the darkness. Laboriously, the bucket truck came rumbling up the gradual incline of Vancouver Avenue, as if trekking through volcanic ash. As the great beast lumbered in search of its destination, the crowd that gathered urged it on, flailing their arms frantically. Target spotted, the truck pulled up in front of the crowd and sputtered to a halt. Turning the engine off, the driver-side door creaked open, and out jumped Superman himself.

Other than the spectacles, he bore no resemblance to Clark Kent. Middle-aged, forearms covered in shoddy tattoos, Zappa beard, and a receding hairline accentuated by a tight ponytail, this humble technician was a savior. Max spotted the nametag: “Ray.” Perfect. A ray of hope in these very dire straits. Ray Mysterio. Super Ray. Mi rey.

Before Max or Andrea could begin their groveling, Ray already had his eyes on the prize. Glancing upward, he spoke barely a word, nor acknowledged his adoring audience. “Help!” Andy called out, sensing a new element in the sea of uncertainty below. With a slight nod of understanding, Ray accepted the challenge. It was time to suit up.

Everyone watched with uneasy anticipation as Ray got into character. Stepping into his flame-resistant suit and slipping on protective rubber gloves, he prepared himself with the laser focus of a bomb disposal technician. Entering the cherry picker, he clamped his utility belt carabiners and engaged the lifting arm. Gears whirring, Ray began the slow ascent toward the streetlight, his eyes locked on the distressed feline. A weary Andy coughed out a dry-throated “Help!” his voice as hoarse as his claws were cracked and bloody.

Once on par with his stranded captive, Ray extended a gloved hand and Andy accepted it with gratitude. Grabbing the large Bombay cat by the scruff of the neck with one hand and supporting his ample bottom with the other, Ray seamlessly transferred Andy into the basket. Once secured, together they descended toward the cheering crowd below.

Overcome with relief, Max and Andrea released the clumsy life net and rushed to meet the disembarked Ray, who carefully handed over the shrieking cat to his humans. Max grabbed his beloved pet with an embrace that would withstand the most powerful forces of nature. He clasped Andy to his chest, the cat’s bloodied claws staining his white t-shirt, as they were joined by Andrea. Together, humans and cat embraced, eliciting an impassioned “awe” from the relieved onlookers.

The crowd slowly dispersed; commuters continued their return journey home with a story to tell and the video evidence to back it up. The firefighters mounted their engine and headed back to the station for a momentary intermission. Andrea’s loyal mourner remarked on the beauty of what had transpired before she continued her daily stroll around the neighborhood. And the rest of the neighbors returned to their nearby apartments to prepare their dinner and decompress on what they had just witnessed.

Out of sight, Ray removed his protective equipment, neatly folded his cape, and zipped up his navy-blue coverall to conceal the red “S” over his chest. He was about to take off unceremoniously when Max finally came to his senses and sought him out. 

“Thank you, Ray,” he stammered, voice trembling. “You have no idea how much we love this cat.” 

“You are our hero,” Andrea added, without a trace of sarcasm. Ray offered a compassionate smile and accepted a hug from each. “Just doin’ my job,” he responded casually, before he climbed into the big rig, fired up the engine, and drove off into the setting sun.