Fire Still on My Mind

There's clearly a "fire" on Wall Street as the red minus numbers are screaming like sirens, but we also had a sort of fire next door yesterday. Our neighbor heard a cat meowing from somewhere under her deck. A search revealed that a young kitten had tumbled down into an old cistern or root cellar that had been concealed under the deck. The neighbors were enlisted en masse. Advice was in great supply. John came with a hammer to pry up some deck boards; I was called on for some sardines to help lure the frightened animal out and up a board inserted into the cavern. No avail. The police entered the scene with their noose to control strays, but it was nowhere long enough to reach to the bottom of the well. They called the fire department to the rescue. A lovely red truck and four brave men hauled out their full gear--a tripod, a sling, a pulley system and after about forty minutes a brave fire fighter was lowered into the tiny opening. About thirty seconds to go down, grab the little feller in a net, and haul him back up to light. They dumped the net and the little tiger striped feline ran off like a bullet and disappeared into the shrubbery. Not a word of thanks! The boys in blue packed up their stuff and departed. Monmouth returned to its normal slumbering Saturday afternoon peace.