I think I made myself diabetic in an evening.

I had good reason though. My cat dissapeared two days ago. Ziggy – or ziggers as he has come to be known is my fat orange tabby. We share the same hair color so there’s a special bond.

Ziggy is quite the adventurer and – as it happens – a spectacular fighter. Don’t ever scratch his tummy because he’ll take your hand off. He’s a rescue and had a rough childhood, so there’s history there I’m sure.

Two evenings ago he decided to not come home. So we went looking for him clanking his bowl and calling and he never showed up. I had to get to work the next morning – big migration this weekend etc – but came home in the evening and still no ziggers. So last night I’m tramping the Sammamish trail (which has great mouse hunting if you’re that way inclined) and still no ziggers.

At around midnight last night I decided to give it one last shot. I was clanking his bowl and calling him and I kinda got into a routine so I never realized how far north I walked. Way further than I’d ever assume he’d adventure.

About half a mile up the trail I hear MEEEEOW and I recognize his hoarse litle meow immediatelly. He’s stuck in a tree in someone’s back yard about 3o ft up.

This is the second time he’s done this. I don’t know if he gets chased up there by critters or if he just loves the feel of bark beneath his paws.

So I sprint half a mile back to the house – we grab a huge piece of canvas, sprint back and assume the fireman pose underneath the tree holding the canvas between us like a trampoline trying to coax him to jump. Sound crazy? That’s what worked last time and it was much higher.

We must have stood out there for at least 90 minutes until he finally slipped, stayed in a pull-up position hanging from a branch for ages and then finally let go. He landed with a heavy thud and almost ripped the canvas from our hands – guess he’s put on a bit of weight.

We got him home – he’s was actually in great shape but I fed him some electrolytes and next thing he’s meowing at the door ready to go out again.

So to destress I had to eat a pint of Phish Phood.