Tuesday, August 13, 2024
Arthur and I were friends for more than 20 years. Over that time I had several cats, including Duff, whom I would take to Central Park in a baby carriage. We would stay there for hours, I feeding the birds and squirrels, and Duff riveted on the wall in front of the old stables, watching for rats. Over the years I had Duff, he caught 24 rats, mostly babies. He was a good hunter.
One day I took him to the park and an off-the-leash dog chased him up a very tall gingko biloba tree. I was absolutely panicked He was so high, I couldn’t even see him, and I was sure he couldn’t get down himself. I went home and told Arthur about it, and then went back to the park to wait under the tree.
Meantime, there was a wedding reception going on in Pinetum inches from me. The irony struck me of all these happy people, celebrating and having a wonderful time, while I was sunk in despair and feeling sorry for myself.
Arthur came up with a brilliant idea. He called the rock climbing place on Broadway near Lincoln Center, and managed to talk someone there into coming to the park, climbing the tree and trying to get Duff down. The drawback was this man couldn’t leave until work was over at 5 pm, so all day the hours went slowly by while I was more and more sure I would never see Duff alive again.
If this happened in a small town, neighbors would pitch in and help, but this was the big cold city of Manhattan. Fire trucks with ladders were forbidden in the park, and while the park had a cherry picker that would have come in handy, it was in use elsewhere and could not be spared.
At 5 pm, Arthur hovered at the entrance to the park to meet the man from the rock climbing place (we never found out his name), and escorted him to Duff’s tree. He had a backpack in which he intended to place Duff, and I gave him my sweater to line it, so that Duff would be met by a scent that was familiar.
I don’t know what I expected in terms of tree climbing, but he had a rope that he looped around the trunk of the tree, and hauled himself up with it, repositioning it every few minutes. In very little time, he managed to grab hold of Duff, put him in the backpack and come down again, safe and hungry.
Meanwhile all the wedding guests had been entertained all day by various events set up by the organizers, and I suppose the rescue of Duff just seemed like one more event to them. They all applauded when he was safe, and several of them offered money (as did Arthur and I) to the man who rescued him.
I don’t think I ever properly thanked Arthur; I would never have thought of this myself, and without him, I may never have gotten Duff back. Thank you, Arthur, my hero!
