It was all she could do to calm Matilda down. Grace pledged to climb up and rescue the Christmas kitten. Peter had insisted on giving the present after a co-worker brought in a litter with a sign declaring them free to good homes. As soon as Matilda heard the tiny whelps, there was no going back.
And it now wasn't even New Year's Eve and this damn thing is causing nothing but dramas.
She changes into her yoga pants, hoping that as people gather to gawk, they'll get a better view than if she wore her studio shorts.
The huge Hawthorn tree sprawled across the front yard, a relic from the previous owners. Grace loves the late November flowers that seem to appear overnight, as if a huge dump of snow occurred overnight. It is the best way to bring in the onset of summer with a reminder of the cold winter.
Three branches up and Grace makes the mistake of looking down. Matilda is frantically pointing to the other side of the tree. The kitten, she's yelling, is within reach.
Grace peers over and sees the tiny kitten precariously clawing its way over to her. She reaches a hand out and realises she should have worn something with a pocket, or have used a ladder. There is no way she'll be able to climb down one-handed with a biting kitten squirming its way free.
The kitten leaps over her outstretched hand and confidently lands on the branch below. Grace watches the puckered arsehole of the kitten disappear down the tree.
Matilda grabs the damn thing the moment she can and rushes inside.
Grace extends her right foot out, searching for the branch below, but finds nothing but air. She can't sight where to lower her foot, so must remain stranded in the tree.