UP A TREE and Scared Frozen, part 2

In Part 1 of “Up A Tree and Scared Frozen,” Freckles' tries to save a friend, yet now two are in jeopardy. For Part 1, go here. Part 2 follows:

In my panic, I jump on the rail and paw the cell phone.

Like she does. It’s magic, sometimes someone comes over when she does this. She paws it, and makes noise into it from her mouth.

So I try that. Nothing.

I paw it again. It clicks right away. Must mean I can make the noise now.

“She's stuck, and the Old Guy’s stuck.” I yowl this.

Then I hear a funny noise, a voice. Oh, good. It's the man. Hey, that's cool. How did he do that?

I mew some more. Then, I make that noise he understands, the one when a stranger comes up the walk. One time I found out it was his friend. How was I to know? But the man always pats me anyway. Says, “Good job, Freckles. That's the way to sound the alarm.”

I'm hoping he realizes that's just what I'm doing this time.

"Freckles? How did you call me? Oh no, something is wrong, isn’t it? I'll be right there.”

Then the phone dies. Now what? Did he understand?

I pace. Why doesn't he come home now? He said right away.

I'm pacing the deck. I'm looking up and down the street. Maybe his metal box will carry him home soon. I'm pacing. Pacing.

She's up in the tree. Talking to the Old guy. He's not responding. Scared frozen, poor fellow.

Oh no!

She's trying to grab him, and the ladder falls.

She's on the limb, hanging by her hands.

I go back to the cell. I push again.

"Hello Babe, you okay? I'm almost home."

I roar this time, the way he understands. Only louder.

"Freckles, good boy. I'm coming home. I'm just up the street. Here I come."

The long metal box rumbles on the dirt road. Dust hides it, but it must be the man’s rolling box. Good. It is. It rolls up the driveway. Stops next to the fallen ladder.

"Looking for someone?" She asks this from high up on the limb. Still hanging. Like, nothing unusual about this. As if everything is just fine.

But it’s not. I can't stand it. Nothing should happen to her.

“I'll be sweet, I promise.” I mew this in a pattern, over and over. Like those prayers she makes. Then I decide whoever is supposed to hear them doesn’t. So I make frantic yowls. I can’t help it. “From now on, I’ll be a new fellow. Or close to one as I can. But just don't let her fall, please. Big man, go up the ladder, save them.”

He puts the ladder back up against the tree. Good. Now he talks to the lady.

"I'll ask later, Babe. Here you go now. I'll hold it for you."

"But the Old Guy is stuck up here," she says. "I can't hold him and climb down at the same time."

“Oh, I see. Don't worry, I can. Just come down first, okay?"

He’s so calm. Not me, though. I hope she's calm. Can she do this?

"Okay," she says. She starts, but slips and almost falls. Tries to get her foot back on the ladder.

I'm pacing, pausing to yowl. The dog too, making soft barks. We're encouraging her. Like the big man.

Will she make it?