Kendall came home after spending the night with her aunt and found me upstairs. I guess she'd walked around outside first and then came inside. She told me one of the barn cats had been killed by the dogs. She wanted me to help bury it, so I said I'd come out.
When I got outside, she and the boys had found the other cat up in our tree. It was up high, about 15 ft up, and out on a small limb. I sat there for about 5 minutes trying to figure out what to do and then decided to try something.
I went and grabbed the extendible stepladder and put it in the truck. I also grabbed the old guinea pig cage, and then drove over. Parking under the tree, I extended the ladder, setting it in the back of the truck to give me some height. I was a little worried since the limbs were in the way, but I managed to get it stable without swaying. Pulling on some gloves, I climbed up with the bottom of the cage, a 2ft sq piece of plastic. The cat was relatively friendly, no hissing or fur up. It meowed a little, but it was definitely scared. I managed to get it's back legs into the cage, but it did not want to let go.
It's quite a balancing act, 15 ft in the air, trying to hold this large piece of plastic while simultaneously trying to loosen the grip of this kitten on the branch. Eventually I managed to get him off and into the cage. I sat up there for a couple minutes, just petting him. Both of us on a ladder, on a truck, in the air.
I slowly came down and then gave the cat to Kendall to hold. She was thrilled with that and we loaded her in the truck and moved the cat to the tack room. Not sure if that's the best place, but it's secure and I moved the food, water, and litter box in there.
A big relief for my daughter, though she handled the death of "sweetie" well. Chicago lives to see another day.