Kung-Fu Kitty

A boy stood under a maple tree, looking forlornly at the magnificent spread of branches above him. He had always wanted to climb the impressive plant, but his diminutive stature had always been an obstacle. He now wished that this impediment was no longer an issue as he gazed sadly at the fluorescent orange streamers of his brand new kite, wrapped around one of the highest branches.

The maple stood in the centre of a large, grassy field, not a ten-minute walk from the boy's home. The noon sun shone though its full foliage. A slight warm breeze ruffled the child's hair, the maple's leaves, and pushed fluffy white clouds across the deep blue sky.

He briefly contemplated running home and fetching his father, who could easily climb his ladder and retrieve the entangled kite, but the idea was quickly dismissed. His father had given him the kite as a birthday present, and the boy feared that the news of the trapped gift would anger him. With a grunt of determination, the child jumped to reach the lowest branch.

His fingers scraped the bark, but he fell back onto the hard dirt under the tree. Not easily discouraged, he brushed the dirt off his overalls, mustered all his strength and leaped again. This time, his small hands encircled the branch, and he dangled for a few moments, kicking at the air. His bare feet eventually found the trunk and he used them to propel himself upward so that his legs could wrap themselves around the branch.

Catching his breath, the boy hung from the tree. A moment later, he carefully pulled himself to the top of the branch. Proud of his accomplishment, he allowed himself a glance downward. Vertigo set in, and he gulped. Grasping the maple's thick trunk, he assured himself that his seat on the branch was secure as long as he kept his balance.

A few moments passed before the boy could convince himself to continue his trek upward. Gradually, he loosened his grip on the massive trunk and focused on his brand new kite. He slowly stood up and reached for the next branch. It seemed to get easier as he mounted one wooden outcropping after another. The boy tried to concentrate so as not to be tempted into looking down by his youthful curiosity. His goal was quickly approaching.

Finally, the kite was within reach. Its brightly-coloured body resembled a fish caught in a net as the wind blew it against the trunk. The string was tightly wound around one branch, the length of it gently swaying to the ground where the other end was still attached to the spool around which it was still neatly wrapped.

The boy shivered at the thought of untangling his toy from the maple at such a great height. Swallowing his fear, he reached for his prize, trying desperately not to lose his foothold. This high in the tree, the branches were thinner, and the boy doubted they would hold his slight weight if he dared climb higher. Yet, his small hands could not come close enough to the elusive string.

Discouraged, the small figure at the top of a very large tree sighed. How was he to get his kite down now? Perhaps he should have vied for his father's help after all. It was too late now; as the boy risked a look downwards, he realized it might not be so simple to retrace his steps. Trying to muster his courage the small child attempted again to reach the kite string. Realizing that he would never be able to catch it this way, he slowly shifted his weight to a branch directly under the one around which his special toy was entangled. Grabbing a twig just low enough to reach, he pulled himself up to a standing position and walked along the lower branch until he could just reach the knotted string.

Proud of his accomplishment, but careful not to let his determination fail him, the boy worked furiously to untangle the string, making sure not to lose his balance. After what seemed like an eternity, he had freed the captive from its wooden prison. The kite drifted slowly to the ground as the boy let fall. Now there remained only the matter of returning safely to the stable earth. This high in the tree, the boy could feel its gentle sway in the breeze.

Awkwardly, he groped the trunk to resume a sitting position on the branch upon which he had been standing. Looking down, with a tight stomach, the boy reached towards a lower branch with his small, fragile-looking foot. Feeling he was going to be sick with dizziness, the boy shut his eyes. He could not look earthward. Hugging the trunk, he slowly felt his way down, branch by branch. Once or twice, he thought that he would not find a place to put his foot, but always there was one.

Suddenly, his foot could touch nothing more. Desperately grabbing at the trunk, the boy tried to keep from falling. His efforts were in vain as he scratched his inner arms and quickly tumbled to the ground. The latter was much closer than he had expected. He landed on his rear end only a few feet down and finally opened his eyes.

Bruised, but not seriously hurt, the boy looked shakily around him. His brightly coloured kite lay beside him, fluttering softly in the gentle breeze, beckoning him like an old friend wanting to play. The boy, ignoring his cuts and bruises, picked up his toy and prepared to make it fly again.