Cats are notoriously curious and crafty to the extents of their own demise. Having lived in Harlem for some time now, I’ve learned that the “cats” here don’t just play jazz. On the average walk in the neighborhood you can come across any number of them scatting away in the empty lots or public parks. That’s where the tabby cat gangs unite to burrow for warmth. The lucky few occupy the back shelves of the bodegas, dealing their daily guests with possessive leg rubs in exchange for pats.

My own two girls are Harlem pure breads. Eight years ago, a beautiful Picasso decorated mom squatted on my friend’s porch to birth her litter. 10 weeks later I had two beautiful blonde tabbies for roommates. For all I know these gangs are my distant relatives.

But despite my association, I ignore them like I would any other New Yorker. They are one of us. They don’t want me to stop and talk to them as I’m walking by. They would rather I just kept walking.

Then one day last week I was stopped dead in my tracks.  I heard a very desperate but feeble meow overhead. Curious … I looked up. Delicately balancing on the eaves of one of the old houses was a little black and white kitten. This was no cat on a hot tin roof burning her paws in exchange for basking in the sun.  She wasn’t going to bravely jump and land on all four feet. This little girl was stuck and clearly wanted to be somewhere else. I needed to take the leap. Referencing the archives of my life for advice, several childhood books came to mind.

“Cat in a Tree” is about an old lady who tries to save a cat stuck in the tree outside her window. She calls the Fire Department, the Police Department and even the pet store. Each time the damn stranded cat seams to multiply. When no one will help her, she takes matters into her own hands. Frustrated yet suddenly inspired by her telephone, she throws the handset over to the tree and hooks it over a branch. A few moments later twenty-four purring cats cross the telephone cable into her apartment.

Needless to say, this was not my solution.

Instead, I went to the door of the house.

I buzzed.

I knocked.

I called out.

No answer.

I’m a New Yorker. I’m resourceful. So … I call 311. For those of you that may be interested and for future reference, this is not the best line of action were you to find yourself in this situation. It turns out that healthy cats that are stuck are not their problem and not even the FDNY will come with a ladder. So, I did what any cat mom would have done. I started climbing. The fire escape was easy enough to reach, and it was only a couple of stories. My hands were trembling. My heart was racing. I could hear her cries getting closer. With my hand on the highest rung of the ladder, I leapt up onto the roof.

And there she was … my perfect little rescue … hissing at me like I was the spawn of the devil. She wanted nothing to do with me! Lucky for her, she couldn’t run away. I grabbed her scruff, but not before she could get a couple of good swipes at me. I pulled her close into my jacket, keeping my hand firmly around her scruff and managed to climb down with her continuing to claw me the whole way. Somehow, we managed to get back on the ground.  She was free.  Curious, I followed her behind the house into some bushes and took a peek. And there she was … a perfect little kitten … grooming her mother, surrounded by her litter mates.

That little kitten would have rather stayed on that roof and perished rather than let me save her. Cats are not like us. They can’t weigh the chances of survival in both scenarios. How often are we found stuck in a situation that is self-destructive; where we decide to stay and agonize rather the suffer the consequences of change? We would rather be compromised or ruined than climb across into the unknown. We don’t know what’s on the other side, but yet we are afraid. Our illusions, our imaginations and our survival instincts keep us bound instead of allowing us to overcome the obstacles we inevitably put in our own way. It is our job to challenge those instincts and be brave. It takes courage to climb off of that roof on your own, but yet somehow, we will all manage to do just that, and still land on all four feat.

LJE