Bailey

In a perfectly cinematic world, Captain Brandon would have addressed the crew at twilight as foreboding music softly played.  He would set the stage, "Firefighters, I need a volunteer."  “Someone tall”, he would ask.  “Not afraid of heights”, he would hope.   “Maybe … just spitballing here … somebody who climbs mountains, or some such thing”, he would inquire, above the low growl of the gusting wind. 

The clouds would split.  A ray of light would pierce downward, illuminating one lone firefighter in the group.  That firefighter would look up and with a steely gaze, step forward.  The firefighter and Captain would look at each other, nod like … you know … indomitable men nod, and that lone firefighter would ascend into the heavens, bravely facing danger.  The Indiana Jones theme would rise from the speakers as the camera panned ever upward.  da da da da!, da da da …

To be fair, it WAS windy. 

Just after dinner the pager tones.  Flip open the phone to respond that I’ll be at the station in 0 – 4 minutes and … start laughing.  Marcia takes note of the laughter, which has never happened before.  “Kitten in a tree”, I explain, running out the door.

Oh sure.  Make your jokes now.  We absolutely did, all the way there and back in Truck (Ladder) 32.  The often joked about but rarely executed kitten in a tree rescue was most definitely ON.  But, once you get on scene, it becomes a fairly serious undertaking.  The cat is fifty or sixty feet up in the tree, too far from solid ground for the “stick” (ladder) to reach, so it becomes an extension ladder affair.  The tallest one we have is still fifteen or so feet short, so we’re gonna have to figure out the rest when we’re up there.  Takes somewhere between three and six people just to move and raise the behemoth so, that takes a few minutes.  Nathan, Danielle, Alan and Andrew steady the beast, while Jason and me pull the halyard in sequence to raise it to its full height.   

Ladder is up, resting in a crotch of a branch.  I’m front and center to go up.  I have some Lowa (love Lowa boots) Renegades hanging on my locker for wildland fires / rescues and a ladder hook also hanging at the ready to clip into my belt if there’s ladder work expected.  Ditched the structural fire boots (too bulky for tree work) for the Renegades and had the ladder hook clipped into my belt before jumping on 32.   A small collection of mountaineering slings and carabiners in my right pants cargo pocket, as always.  I’ve slung, carabinered and ice-axed my way up significant chunks of the mountain west, so a kitten in a tree is not gonna be a problem.  Ready from the start, Captain and I do a nod (sans dramatic music) and up I go.

Make it to the top.  It’s windy and waaaay up there, and Bailey has no idea about how to get down.  I won’t say it’s a mistake, but I toss the 12 foot rescue sling which sits atop the pouch of smaller slings in my bunker pants pocket to the ground.  It is seriously windy and I need the smaller ones to lash the ladder to the tree.  Do that, hook myself into the ladder and try to coax Bailey down. 

Turns out, Bailey IS gonna be a problem.  This is not working.  I do, for a moment, have a Little League flashback.  People on the ground -- waaaay down there -- are offering advice.  “Just throw strikes”, the parents would yell, to a struggling eleven year-old on the mound.  Not at all helpful, to be honest. 

Bailey is not coming down.  I am standing on the very top of the ladder, pretending to (or actually, as the case may be) not hear Safety Officer Harry telling me I am too high up on the ladder.  This is not going to work.  Ponder for a moment. 

If I go down and grab the sling I tossed aside, I can use that to tie myself into the tree and get higher than the ladder.  Go down, get the sling.  Remove everything else in my pockets or attached to me to make myself less clunky.  Get an open can of cat food to take with me.  Go back up, humming Indiana Jones. 

Get to the top and lash myself into the tree.  Notice my right leg shaking violently from the weird way I am standing on it and all the weight as the wind pushes the crown of the tree against it.  Not at all helpful, to be honest.  Too high for anyone on the ground to see it.  Good.  Command my right leg (swearing to myself) to calm the ____ down.  I am NOT coming down from this ladder again, without Bailey. 

Grab the can of food from my left pocket and raise it up to Bailey.  He smells and sees it, and starts inching his way down, scared.  Inching.  Inching.  I keep enticing him with the food in my left hand.  Trusting the sling I’ve tied around the tree and my ladder hook in it, I let go with my right hand.  Inching him down with my left hand, he is finally in reach and I grab him with my right hand, pulling him tightly against my jacket so he does not squirm away.  None too happy with the maneuver, he takes a swipe at my face as he passes, slicing my chin. 

Toss the food to the ground, death grip on Bailey unhook myself from the tree, and start heading down the ladder.  Whether Bailey is more scared of me or I am more scared of dropping him keeps me occupied enough that I’m not humming Indiana Jones on the way down.  Get to the bottom, ask “Did anyone here lose a cat?”, and hand Bailey off to a very happy owner. 

As the guys are packing up the ladder and FF Danielle is tending to my cut, the owner brings Bailey over for pictures.  Very happy owner.  Very happy firefighter and crew, with some good ladder training accomplished.  Somewhat perplexed but none the worse for wear kitten.

A serious note – I was just the guy on top of the ladder.  Given the circumstances, my height was certainly helpful, and is my ease at heights.  But there is no way I could have gotten to Bailey without the great team at the bottom of the ladder.  The story is not so much about one firefighter carrying a kitten down from a tree, but about every member of PDFD carrying the reputation of the department with them, wherever we go.  Cat in a tree sounds funny and it had a happy ending, but no one was laughing at the task as it was being accomplished.    

There’s an old firefighter joke about an old firefighter responding to a woman’s concern about her cat in a tree by saying, “Lady, how many cat skeletons have you ever seen in a tree?”.

No joke.  Not Bailey’s.