him. So we dropped a rope down, with a noose at the end, hoping we could ease it down over his shoulders and under his arms. Which of course, we could not manage, because he was a mad, tired, hungry, thirsty cat, unwilling to cooperate with our plan.

So my neighbor informed me that he did have the noose around Dugan’s neck, and the only thing he could think of to do was to pull him quickly out of the hole by his neck, and remove the noose as soon as he came out, before he choked to death. I agreed to the plan, because it did seem to be the only way, and so he pulled the noose a little tighter around Dugan’s neck, and then, on the count of three, hoisted him a

We have an elderly Siamese cat named Dugan. He’ll be 17 this summer (that’s 84 in human years), but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. Other than a slight heart murmur, and some kidney function issues, which only his vet can detect, he doesn’t appear to be a day over 10 – and we fully expect him to have a few more good years left of living.

Dugan has had quite an adventurous existence, and we know for a fact he’s lost at least three of the nine lives he was born with – and probably more, we just don’t know about them. He cashed in on the first life when he was about three years old. I always liked to make visual contact with Dugan before leaving the house for work in the morning, just to make sure he was okay. One morning I couldn’t find him anywhere in the house, and after checking every closet and under all of the beds, I started to call for him. I could hear him answering me, faintly, but couldn’t determine where he was. I could hear him best in the family room, over by the fireplace. I opened the glass doors on the off chance he’d gotten in there somehow, and heard him louder than ever.

After determining that he wasn’t sitting in the fireplace, or outside of the house next to the chimney, I figured out that he was in the wall next to the fireplace. Evidently, during one of his early morning adventures, he’d found his way up into the drop ceiling in our unfinished laundry room, and traveled along the duct-ways for our furnace, coming to the end of the trail at the far end of the house, and falling down between the outside wall and the inside drywall in the space next to the chimney.

My husband was out of town, so I called the local animal rescue agency to see if they could help get him out of the wall. They tried to pry open the metal chimney guard, but to no avail – and after they left, his meowing was noticeably weaker. My father suggested putting tuna fish near the opening he’d crawled into, thinking he’d smell it and crawl out to it, but that didn’t work because the space where he’d fallen had no way for him to climb out.

Finally I called a neighbor who came over and cut a ten-inch hole in the drywall, just above the mantle of our fireplace. Using a flashlight and mirror, we confirmed that Dugan was, in fact, trapped below the mantle, next to the bottom of the fireplace. By this point he’d been trapped for at least eight hours, and was desperate to get out. But the space he had fallen into had drywall on two sides, metal flashing from the chimney, and outdoor paneling on the third side – all straight up, with no place for him to get a good grip to climb up and out. And he was too far down for an arm to reach him. So we dropped a rope down, with a noose at the end, hoping we could ease it down over his shoulders and under his arms. Which of course, we could not manage, because he was a mad, tired, hungry, thirsty cat, unwilling to cooperate with our plan.

So my neighbor informed me that he did have the noose around Dugan’s neck, and the only thing he could think of to do was to pull him quickly out of the hole by his neck, and remove the noose as soon as he came out, before he choked to death. I agreed to the plan, because it did seem to be the only way, and so he pulled the noose a little tighter around Dugan’s neck, and then, on the count of three, hoisted him as

e for work in the morning, just to make sure he was okay. One morning I couldn’t find him anywhere in the house, and after checking every closet and under all of the beds, I started to call for him. I could hear him answering me, faintly, but couldn’t determine where he was. I could hear him best in the family room, over by the fireplace. I opened the glass doors on the off chance he’d gotten in there somehow, and heard him louder than ever.

After determining that he wasn’t sitting in the fireplace, or outside of the house next to the chimney, I figured out that he was in the wall next to the fireplace. Evidently, during one of his early morning adventures, he’d found his way up into the drop ceiling in our unfinished laundry room, and traveled along the duct-ways for our furnace, coming to the end of the trail at the far end of the house, and falling down between the outside wall and the inside drywall in the space next to the chimney.

My husband was out of town, so I called the local animal rescue agency to see if they could help get him out of the wall. They tried to pry open the metal chimney guard, but to no avail – and after they left, his meowing was noticeably weaker. My father suggested putting tuna fish near the opening he’d crawled into, thinking he’d smell it and crawl out to it, but that didn’t work because the space where he’d fallen had no way for him to climb out.

Finally I called a neighbor who came over and cut a ten-inch hole in the drywall, just above the mantle of our fireplace. Using a flashlight and mirror, we confirmed that Dugan was, in fact, trapped below the mantle, next to the bottom of the fireplace. By this point he’d been trapped for at least eight hours, and was desperate to get out. But the space he had fallen into had drywall on two sides, metal flashing from the chimney, and outdoor paneling on the third side – all straight up, with no place for him to get a good grip to climb up and out. And he was too far down for an arm to reach him. So we dropped a rope down, with a noose at the end, hoping we could ease it down over his shoulders and under his arms. Which of course, we could not manage, because he was a mad, tired, hungry, thirsty cat, unwilling to cooperate with our plan.

So my neighbor informed me that he did have the noose around Dugan’s neck, and the only thing he could think of to do was to pull him quickly out of the hole by his neck, and remove the noose as soon as he came out, before he choked to death. I agreed to the plan, because it did seem to be the only way, and so he pulled the noose a little tighter around Dugan’s neck, and then, on the count of three, hoisted him a

he’d found his way up into the drop ceiling in our unfinished laundry room, and traveled along the duct-ways for our furnace, coming to the end of the trail at the far end of the house, and falling down between the outside wall and the inside drywall in the space next to the chimney.

My husband was out of town, so I called the local animal rescue agency to see if they could help get him out of the wall. They tried to pry open the metal chimney guard, but to no avail – and after they left, his meowing was noticeably weaker. My father suggested putting tuna fish near the opening he’d crawled into, thinking he’d smell it and crawl out to it, but that didn’t work because the space where he’d fallen had no way for him to climb out.

Finally I called a neighbor who came over and cut a ten-inch hole in the drywall, just above the mantle of our fireplace. Using a flashlight and mirror, we confirmed that Dugan was, in fact, trapped below the mantle, next to the bottom of the fireplace. By this point he’d been trapped for at least eight hours, and was desperate to get out. But the space he had fallen into had drywall on two sides, metal flashing from the chimney, and outdoor paneling on the third side – all straight up, with no place for him to get a good grip to climb up and out. And he was too far down for an arm to reach him. So we dropped a rope down, with a noose at the end, hoping we could ease it down over his shoulders and under his arms. Which of course, we could not manage, because he was a mad, tired, hungry, thirsty cat, unwilling to cooperate with our plan.

So my neighbor informed me that he did have the noose around Dugan’s neck, and the only thing he could think of to do was to pull him quickly out of the hole by his neck, and remove the noose as soon as he came out, before he choked to death. I agreed to the plan, because it did seem to be the only way, and so he pulled the noose a little tighter around Dugan’s neck, and then, on the count of three, hoisted him a

because the space where he’d fallen had no way for him to climb out.

Finally I called a neighbor who came over and cut a ten-inch hole in the drywall, just above the mantle of our fireplace. Using a flashlight and mirror, we confirmed that Dugan was, in fact, trapped below the mantle, next to the bottom of the fireplace. By this point he’d been trapped for at least eight hours, and was desperate to get out. But the space he had fallen into had drywall on two sides, metal flashing from the chimney, and outdoor paneling on the third side – all straight up, with no place for him to get a good grip to climb up and out. And he was too far down for an arm to reach him. So we dropped a rope down, with a noose at the end, hoping we could ease it down over his shoulders and under his arms. Which of course, we could not manage, because he was a mad, tired, hungry, thirsty cat, unwilling to cooperate with our plan.

So my neighbor informed me that he did have the noose around Dugan’s neck, and the only thing he could think of to do was to pull him quickly out of the hole by his neck, and remove the noose as soon as he came out, before he choked to death. I agreed to the plan, because it did seem to be the only way, and so he pulled the noose a little tighter around Dugan’s neck, and then, on the count of three, hoisted him a

him. So we dropped a rope down, with a noose at the end, hoping we could ease it down over his shoulders and under his arms. Which of course, we could not manage, because he was a mad, tired, hungry, thirsty cat, unwilling to cooperate with our plan.

So my neighbor informed me that he did have the noose around Dugan’s neck, and the only thing he could think of to do was to pull him quickly out of the hole by his neck, and remove the noose as soon as he came out, before he choked to death. I agreed to the plan, because it did seem to be the only way, and so he pulled the noose a little tighter around Dugan’s neck, and then, on the count of three, hoisted him as gently as possible up out of the wall.

Our plan was to pull him out and remove the noose quickly – however we weren’t prepared for the whirling dervish of snarling teeth and claws that came out of the hole in the wall. Dugan was so terrified and angry that he came out with all guns firing, and my neighbor dropped him before either of them was injured. Dugan took off up the stairs, with the noose tightly around his neck – and I was afraid he’d choke to death before I could find him. So I did the first thing that occurred to me and stepped on the end of the rope, which stopped him cold. Then I quickly ran to him, removed the noose, and watched him run back to the laundry room – where he appeared intent on climbing back up into the drop ceiling. Luckily, I was able to foil his plans for another trip inside our walls…

About a year later he had another adventure, this one outside of the house, but which cost him another life. Evidently Dugan liked to climb into a different neighbor’s boat and sleep during the day. They had a cover on the boat, and he’d climb up inside and snooze in the cool shade of the boat. The only reason we know this is because one day, our neighbors came over with Dugan in their arms, asking if we’d been missing him. To be honest, we hadn’t, because he took off often during the day – but we thanked them for bringing him home, and then asked what happened.

It seems they had decided to take their boat out on the river that day – so they hitched the trailer to their truck and drove the five miles to the put-in spot. The mom, dad, two girls, and dog, then set out for a nice boat ride up and down the river, with a picnic lunch and some water skiing mixed into their fun day together. At some point in their river journey, Dugan popped out of a small space next to the motor. Their dog went nuts, Dugan went nuts, so the girls grabbed Dugan and wrapped him in a towel and tried to keep him calm, while the father worked on taming the 80-pound angry Labrador. Suffice to say, their lovely day on the river was now over, and they returned to shore, loaded up the boat, drove home, and presented us with our cat.

I say he lost one of his lives that day because, had any other person found a cat on their boat while enjoying a lovely spring day on the river, they would likely have thrown him overboard and continued their fun. Then, when asked later if they’d seen Dugan, they would say no, they hadn’t, and offer to keep an eye out for him. Heck, I’m a cat lover, and I might have been tempted to do the same. But no – these wonderful people rescued our cat from the river and their angry dog, wrapped up their boat ride early,