“Here, kitty kitty!” was the song of Millwood Avenue as the neighborhood joined in urging pussycat Middy to alight from her perch, 75 feet up in a palm near her home at number 750.
After six days, Middy’s mistress Mrs. Don Bowser was at her wit’s end, her throat raw and neck sore from craning. Although the fire department declined to assist, Boy Scouts from Venice Troop 75 milled around looking helpful. And perhaps the sight of all those little boys so plump and perfect for scratching did compel Middy to move, for suddenly the recalcitrant cat crashed down through the dry fronds, claws out and howling, and landed on the concrete below.
A neighbor reported that Middy had drunk a little milk, and would be examined by a vet because she’d shown signs of internal bleeding.