The World According To Me

The Pom and I live in a pretty family-friendly street. There's a little boy of about 12 who lives next door to us with his family and he loves to kick the footy around in the street after school. Sometimes he has a mate to kick with, but mostly he just kicks it around to himself. The best part is that he gives himself a running commentary as he does it, like he's playing in a one-man grandfinal. I find this hilarious. He's a friendly enough kid, very polite when he kicks the ball over our fence into our yard and we go and retrieve it for him. Neither of us mind, it's better than some alternatives of picking up beer bottles or neighbours poisoning our pets (I have very little faith in people, I know).

Last night I was sitting in our backyard having another post-work cigarette, enjoying the mild weather, watching the sun go down. I realised Aggie wasn't about, and after an extended period of calling and Friskies-box shaking without her showing her furry little face, I headed out the front of the house in order to find her.

'Puss puss'

*shake shake shake* (This is usually a sure-fire winner)

"Puuuuuuuuss puuuuuuuuss puuuuuuuuss"

*shake shake shake shake*

"PUUUUUUUSS PUUUUUUUUSS PUUUUUUUUUUSS"

Suddenly I hear a faint 'meowwww' and the 20m high conifer shakes behind me. At about the 15m mark. A little tortoiseshell face poked out the side.

"Shit. POMMMMMMM, Aggie's up the bloody tree. The big one. Can you please come and help?"

Pom comes out and has a look up the tree. The little face has disappeared back within its confines but there's a conspicuous shaking as she tries to make her way down.

It's getting dark. Pom takes charge. "Right, can you go and get the torch? And my car keys". I oblige and return with both. "What do you want with the car keys?" I ask. "I want to move my car in off the street" he says.

Right.

We focus the torch up the tree in the dying light. The fluffy little face reappears at about the 12m mark, then disappears and some more tree shaking ensues. And some more distressed meowing.

"Should we get the ladder?"

I say "She got herself up there, she's got to be able to get back down". The tough love approach isn't something I'm truly feeling, but I try it anyway.

We stand around the bottom of the great big conifer, peering up and not being able to see very much at all. I continue to call to her, and we can see she's making her way down, slowly.

The little kid from next door comes into the front yard "G'day" he says earnestly, "Sorry, but I've just kicked my footy into your backyard, can I get it?"

"Sure" I say, "Just a sec". I'm still looking upward, trying to catch a glimpse of a white paw, or a little pink nose so I can track the progress downward.

He joins us under the tree and looks up. "What's happening?"

"My kitten is stuck up the tree" I inform him.

"Shit" he says, "How did she get up there?"

"I assume she climbed" I answer dryly. I don't want to be rude to the kid but I can hear Aggie's meows grow more and more urgent and I'd like her to get down pretty soon, if possible.

Undeterred, he presses on "One time, when we lived in another house, our cat got stuck up a tree too. It was really, really high. Like this one"

"And you got her down?" I ask, looking at him for the first time.

"Yeah, but it took ages. She was really really stuck"

Pause.

"Hmmmm, I'm sure this little one will be fine"

The tree shakes again, a little face pops out the side. About 8m from the ground. Nearly there.

"Yeah, we named it Holly, after mistletoe, you know, at Christmas?"

I'm not sure I do know. I mean, I know what holly is, and I know what both mistletoe and Christmas are, but I'm not sure I can figure out the relationship between the three and come up with a cat's name. I appease him by nodding, which appears to encourage him. "Yeah, well actually mum came up with the name, I didn't know she was that clever, it surprised me". He laughs at his own joke. "What's your kitten's name?"

"Agnes", I tell him.

"Agnes, hey" he stops to think. "That's a good name for a cat".

"Thanks"

Suddenly the subject in question makes a rapid progress to within reaching distance. With the supervision of the neighbours kid Pom reaches up and plucks her from the tree and places her in my hands. Her little heart is beating quickly and her eyes are wide and wild. She's had an ADVENTURE.

Pom says "I'll just go and get your footy, mate" and heads inside to get to the backyard.

The kid starts to scratch Aggie behind the ear. "She's cute".

"Yeah she is…I'm Kymmy….I don't think I know your name?"

"I'm Matt" he says "But my mates at school call me Chopper"

"Chopper? Why's that?"

"Well cos when Chopper got stabbed once, my mum looked after him in hospital"

"Really? That's cool"

"Yeah". We're mates now. Pom returns with the ball and I repeat the Chopper story to him. Pom's impressed. He has a fascination with Chopper. The real one, that is.

Matt's chest puffs up, he handballs his footy in the air and catches it repeatedly.

"Well" he says, "better go. Seeya", he runs across the front lawn, still handballing to himself, and back to his house. "Seeya", we chorus.

I head out the back for another cigarette. It's dark now. The acrid smoke is relaxing as I inhale. I hear a thump next-door, a football against the fence.

"And chopper kicks a beauty….he collects it from ground-level, handballs it to himself, and CHOPPER KICKS THE GOALLLLLLLL OF THE CENTURY"

I smile to myself.