White Fire

Risking my life to save a kitten wasn't something I ever thought I would do. I don't even like cats. Yet, there I was, climbing a tree next to an apartment building that had smoke and flames coming out the top. All to rescue a white kitten sitting in the third story window, meowing. Not any normal meowing either, it sounded more like a screaming rabbit; high pitched and child like. But, besides the meowing, it didn't seem to be in any particular distress. I mean, yeah the building was on fire and the entire place had been evacuated -no one knew who's apartment it was and we weren't allowed back in-but someone had called the fire department. It wasn't like the building went up in flames and everyone just walked away.

If it wasn't for the little girl that kept tugging at her mothers shirtsleeve and pointing to the third floor window I wouldn't have even thought about rescuing the cat. Surely it could take care of itself until the firemen came to its aid. It's just, after you listen to a kid whine and complain about a darned cat for more then a minute you start to feel obligated to so something. Hence the climbing of the tree; crowbar in my pocket. My intention: break the window, stuff the cat in my jacket, and shimmy down the way I came.

However, it didn't occur to me that kittens aren't particularly cooperative when windows break and strangers try to grab them. I mean, I had a feeling that the little bugger would be a pain in the ass to get but I sure as hell didn't expect the reaction I got that followed my entry of the apartment via window. I at least thought that the thing would be grateful to get out of the smoky building. If it managed to live long enough.

When I finally climbed high enough to reach the window, I leaned over a gaping hole of nothingness and gulped back my fear. Did I mention that I didn't like being high up either? I dislike it more then I do cats and that's saying something. Anyway, there I was, one arm wrapped around the trunk of this tree and the other stretched out as far as I dared to go; blindly trying to break my way into the apartment. I had my eyes closed. I couldn't bear to look at what I was doing. Finally, crowbar meet glass and with one large thwack the window shattered.

It was at that moment that the realization of my situation hit me. I had no idea what the fuck I was doing. Slowly, I opened my eyes and tried my hardest to not look down -without luck. At this point, the firemen had arrived and they were ushering people even further from the building, clearing about a twenty foot radius or so. I knew they hadn't seen me and unless someone one (or myself for that matter) pointed out my position they probably wouldn't even bother looking up at the tree.

Sucking in one large breath I let go of the trunk and jumped. You'd think jumping a span of three feet tops would be easy and I guess for most people it would be -see I never was any good at the whole jumping thing (or physical activity thing either.) But, there I was, clutching the window sill, praying to every god I could think of.

From below I could hear someone shout; "what were you thinking? Hang on, someone's gonna come and get you down form there." Honestly, I don't even know what I was thinking. It's like at that moment that I grabbed the crowbar and started to climb that tree, all the intelligence I had just fluttered away. I was back to being my stupid middle school self -making all the wrong decisions. And, just like my stupid middle school self, I started to feel this anger bubble up inside me as I listened to these people tell me to hang on. I was mad. Mad at the fact that no one cheered me on for my bravery but instead confirmed what I already knew: I had no idea whatsoever on what I was doing.

You'd also probably think that hanging from a window three stories off the ground would make someone realize that what they were doing was stupid. It didn't. I sucked in another breath and heaved myself over that window sill, falling into the apartment with a loud thump. Both the adrenaline and fear and the belly flop (for all intent and purposes) knocked the breath from my lungs.

I had to lay there, on some stranger's living room floor, for a good minute or two before I could even attempt at sitting up. When I had finally regained my breath, I pushed myself up off the floor and started to look around for the object of what was most likely going to be the cause of my imminent death. It took a couple minutes but then I spotted the kitten sitting on the arm of a nearby chair.

He was looking at me with his head tilted sideways in the way that only cute baby animals can do. I could tell it was a he now, before I was unsure. I tried to stand up without making a sound because I didn't want to scare the kitten and then I inched my way over to the chair. The kitten watched me. Then it nonchalantly licked its paw, rubbed its ears and hopped down.

The first thought that ran through my head was wow, that was easy. I couldn't believe it. I mean that darned cat just walked right up to me. I should have known something was up. What cat has the balls to walk right up to me. When I bent down to pick him up it was like his entire demeanor had changed within the blink of an eye. Like Satan himself had somehow possessed this cute, innocent, fluffy thing and tunred him into a ball of hate.

He just started going at it, and I mean going at it. God, I swear to you, I have never seen a two pound creature cause so much damage before as that little ball of white fire did. He tore through my hands, slashing at me with those razors of his like I was some kind of evil human who threatened his safety. I could feel little pin-pricks of blood dot my hands and when I looked down I had to quickly close my eyes because I started to waver a little. My hands looked like I had stuck them in a blender and pressed purée.

I could feel bile rise up in my throat -making me heave a little. That's when the second thought washed through my mind: that little prick, when I get a hold of him so help me God. When I felt that I could finally open my eyes, I purposefully made sure that my hands wouldn't come anywhere within my field of vision.

Carefully I walked around the apartment, looking behind furniture, inside cabinets, basically anywhere I thought that the little kitten might be. Smoke had started to fill up each room, making it harder to see. Eventually I started to cough and in turn I cursed under my breath a string of expletives.

Finally, I found him. You know what he was doing -fucking cleaning himself on the bed. He just sat there cleaning himself. That's when the third thought hit; I am going to toss his ass out that window and laugh. For heaven's sake the building was on fire and he had the nerve to trick my wise ass to come up here and rescue him. I didn't even like cats.

That's when I did the only thing any logical person would do. I took of my jacket, held it out in front of me like it was some kind of diseased thing and when I got close enough, I threw it. I watched it sail across the room and land on top of him. It was the one thing I actually did right that day. As suspected, the cat yelped and tired to claw its way out from under the clothing.

Lucky me, I was two seconds quicker. Releasing a battle cry, I scooped the kitten up and started to run back through the apartment. All the while, I can feel the jacket give in my arms as the kitten tried to scramble its way free. There was only one word playing in my mind at that moment; fuck, fuck, fuck. I could finally see the window and once again, praying to all the gods I knew, I flung myself and the kitten at it.

This time was better, I managed to clear the sill and grip onto a substantial branch. But, as I started to shimmy back down the tree the jacket slipped through my arms. Do you know what happened next? The kitten fell. He just fell and I didn't do anything to stop it. Before you go accusing me of anything remember that I was in a pretty sticky situation myself. Think about it this way: burning building, "helpless" kitten and one dumbass who thinks they can help.

So I watched him fall. Unable to close my eyes due to a mere curiosity at what was going to happen, I stayed right where I was hugging that tree and I watched.

About half way down the shock wore off -you could tell- and the kitten started to reach out, claws extended as he tried to find some stability. It didn't work. He just continued to fall down-down-down. I looked away. I could not watch. The kitten meowed that not normal meow. Then I heard a thud and there was silence...

Oh, don't worry. Do you really think I would confess to a story in which a small animal died? Hell no, I'd be persecuted in seconds. I mean, when they say "all cats land on their feet" they weren't kidding. Nope, that kitten lived. It was a miracle and it sure was stunned but it lived.