In Chapter 5 of Return of the Killer Cat, the narrator Tuffy, a cat perched in a tree, recounts a tense rescue attempt by a man who tries to lower him using a length of tow rope and a slipknot. The man fetches the rope, tosses it over the branch, and attempts to pull the branch down, repeatedly tightening the knot and urging Tuffy to jump. Tuffy reacts with fear, sarcasm, and occasional hope, questioning the man’s motives and mocking his efforts. The dialogue alternates between the man’s instructions (“Jump, Tuffy”) and Tuffy’s cynical commentary, highlighting the cat’s distrust and the man’s clumsy ingenuity. The scene ends with the man securing the rope to his car’s bumper, expressing confidence that the setup will finally bring the branch low enough, while Tuffy, though still skeptical, feels a flicker of hope that the rescue might succeed.
Chapters
Return of the Killer Cat, Chapter 5, Genius. He went in the garage, fetched out a length of tow rope, and came back under my tree. Climbing on the stool, he tossed one end of the rope over my branch. Right, he said grimly. Slipknot. I yowled. Was he planning to hang me? I don't often wish I could talk, but I admit that at that moment I wished I could rush back to the other side and drop a suggestion to Melanie. Hey, sugar, give up— give over praying for something soft and cuddly and phone the cops! The vicar is trying to kill me! He muttered his way through the slipknot. Round and through, then round and through again. I kept up the yowling. He tugged the knot tight, then pulled on the rope. I dug in with my claws. The branch came down, but not quite far enough for him to reach me. He tried again. This time he managed to pull the branch a little further down. I nearly fell. But I'd Still wasn't quite far enough. Jump, he said. Jump the last bit, Tuffy. I gave him the blink. Jump, Tuffy, he said again. I glowered at him. If you had taken a rolling pin to my eyes and flattened them, they couldn't have gotten any slittier. The look I gave him. Could have crawled through a closed Venetian blind. Chicken, he said. Okay, okay, so I spat at him. What are you going to do, throw a woolly at me? He called me a chicken. He was practically begging for it. He said as good as spit in my eye, Tuffy, so I did. He glowered back at me. And then, oh, creepy, creepy. His glower turned into a little smile. Aha! he said. I'll tell you something. People who really don't like you shouldn't say aha! It makes those who know they aren't liked very nervous, especially If they're stuck up trees! Aha! he said again, and hurried back to the garage. The next thing I knew, he was backing the car out. For one horrid, fur-shivering moment, I thought he was planning on knocking my tree down. But then he stopped, put on the brake, and got out again. He stood at the back end of the car and knotted the other end of the rope round the bumper. Right! he said. Admiring his handiwork. I think that's so strong it'll pull the branch down low enough. I stopped my pitiful yowling. I suddenly had hopes of getting down before I died of old age in that tree. If I am honest, I thought he'd hit upon a brilliant idea to rescue me. I thought the man was a genius. I was impressed.
