In Chapter 4 of Return of the Killer Cat, narrated by Lois Letchford, the story is told from the cat’s first‑person viewpoint as it finds itself trapped high in a tree. The vicar below attempts a series of escalating tactics—cooing, cajoling, wheedling, threatening, and outright nastiness—to coax the feline down, each described with dry humor and subtle sarcasm. The cat observes the vicar’s breakfast preparations, noting the smell of sausages and bacon, and muses on the vicar’s hunger and the cliché that breakfast fuels the brain. Despite the vicar’s efforts, the cat remains perched, even attempting to help the vicar by moving along a branch that begins to sink under its weight, turning the branch into a “dry ski slope.” The narrative blends comedic commentary on human‑cat interactions, the physical challenge of the branch, and the cat’s internal conflict between wanting to descend and staying aloof, all delivered in a witty, conversational tone.
Chapters
Return of the Killer Cat. Chapter 4, Stuck Up the Tree. Give him his due, he tried everything. He cooed, he cajoled, he wheedled. There's not much difference between Cajoling and wheedling, except wheedling's more whiny. Then he tried threatening. You'll miss your supper, Tuffy. Scarcely a threat to make me tremble, given what was on offer. Then simple nastiness. You can stay up that tree till you rot. Tuffy? Charming. The fact is, I wasn't faking it. I was dead stuck. Don't think I would have chosen to spend half my morning on one side of the tree listening to him get rattier and rattier. Come down at once, Tuffy! Get down here! And on the other half— other side, listening to Melly— Melanie on her knees with her hands together, her eyes closed, praying and praying. Oh, please, please send me something soft and furry, just like Taffy next door, to put in my straw basket and cuddle. I'll give it the comfiest pillow to sleep on and feed it fresh tuna and cream. Fresh tuna and cream? Didn't The little lady know I had missed my breakfast? After a while, I couldn't stand listening any longer. I moved back to the other side of the tree. Who would blame me? The vicar was clearly getting hungry too. After a while, he left off threatening me and went inside to make his breakfast. No yesterday's grub for him, I noticed. Through the window came the sweet smell of sausages and bacon. They always say that breakfast is good for the brain. I certainly stoked up his little patch of grey matter because a few minutes later he came down the garden carrying a stool and climbed on And still— and he still couldn't reach me. I wasn't being difficult. I really wanted to come down. If he had managed to reach up even nearly high enough, I would have been prepared to drop in his arms. I might have scratched a little, but hey, cats are famous for being ungrateful, so why worry? In fact, I actually tried to help him, creeping towards him along the branch. But then the branch started sinking. That's diets for you, hard to keep to. And as the branch got thinner towards the end, I weighed it down more and more till it practically turned Into a dry ski slope. I didn't dare go any further, so I stopped. But watching the branch sink under my weight did seem to have given the vicar an idea.