The Interview by Eric Weule Page B

cat stared at me from a very thin
branch about six feet above me. I never know what to expect from
cats. I dig their independent nature. I've never been bitten by a
cat, so that was a plus. If it was a German Shepherd up there, the
kids could forget it. Those have bitten me, and for no reason I could
discern except my legs had meat on them.
    I grabbed a branch above my head to steady myself and looked down.
Huh. Kind of high. “What's the cat's name?”
    “Catty.”
    “Really? Catty?”
    “Yeah. Daelyn named him. She names everything like that.
Bearie, Doggie, you know, Catty.”
    “OK.” I looked up at Catty. “Come here, Catty.”
    “That won't work. He doesn't listen,” Katelyn said. She
was a cute little blonde thing. California Girl in training based on
her shorts and bikini top.
    “Right.”
    I climbed up a few more feet. Looked down. Kind of higher. My butt
started to pucker involuntarily. Never a good sign. Why was I up
here?
    “Come on, Catty. Help me out.”
    Catty meowed then started to purr. He rubbed his head against a
branch then looked at me. I knew what the look said. It said, “Come
on, idiot.”
    I slid my boots along the branch so I could get to the next step. I
missed my next handhold and momentarily lost my balance. My sphincter
went into full blown contractions. The kids took a collective gasp. I
grabbed a branch and let out a long slow breath. The kids let out a
collective sigh of disappointment.
    “Come here, you little fucker,” I whispered through
clenched teeth.
    “What did you say?”
    “Nothing. Almost got him.”
    I was high enough now to grab him and to break my neck if I fell
depending on how my next movement went. I went in slow so I didn't
startle him. Catty hissed and scratched my hand. I was officially not
a cat person now. I readjusted my grip, then went in fast. I got him
right behind his head. He was still a kitten, but he wouldn't let go
of the damn branch. A struggle ensued. I eventually won by knocking
his head against the branch a couple times to daze him. He went limp
in my hand once I got his claws removed from the wood.
    “Got him.”
    “Nice job.” My butt wasn't convinced as of yet.
    “Coming down.”
    “Careful.” I ignored the snickering that followed. I
would be careful. And when I got out of this tree I would find the
nearest phone and call the fire department and tell them what a bunch
of pussies they were.
    I got down to the last branch only to discover that there was no way
I could get out of the tree while I held the cat. I didn't want to
drop him. If the kids didn't catch him he'd just run back up the
tree. And I was not doing this again.
    I finally decided on a complicated maneuver that involved me bracing
myself against the tree then slowly sliding down until I was sitting
on the branch. I'd figure out my next move after that. Success! OK,
from here I could jump down. It was only five feet to the ground. No
worries.
    Catty suddenly went into contortions, threw my balance off, and I was
on the ground just like that.
    “Oh, that was sweet!”
    I wanted to reply but I couldn't breathe. I landed flat on my back
and the wind was knocked out of me. I lay there and tried not to
throw up. Somebody took the cat from me. That was a start. Then
somebody kissed me on the cheek and said, “Thank you, Mr. Mail
Dude.”
    Kids are so sweet. Kind of like Annette.

CHAPTER TEN

    I NEVER PLAYED LITTLE LEAGUE baseball when I was a kid. Getting hit
in the head with a bat kind of put me off the game for the remainder
of my childhood. I played soccer when I was in elementary school,
then football in high school. Wide receiver was my position because I
was fast. I didn't really run routes. My coach just told me to run as
fast as I could and the quarterback would throw it as far as he
could. We won some games. We lost some. An athletic scholarship was
never in my future, and after I graduated I left organized sports
behind until I met Frankie.
    She attended U.C.