It's 5:30 am Labor Day morning and I hear Lulah crying. Which is odd, because I let her out at 4:30am and left the door open for her return. The crying continues so I get out of bed and check all exits/entrances. No Lulah, more crying. It takes me a few minutes, but finally I find her.
Lulah against a morning sky with the delicate silhouette of Sophora microphylla, but we're not talking plants this morning, we're talking Lulah's inexplicable trip to the roof in what is the first time in our four years together.
Now it's 6:00 am and I take out my only ladder. It's completely inadequate, i.e., total crap. I briefly consider getting out on the ledge below the roof to keep Lulah company, but having recently fallen down my own back stairs only to land on the basement concrete floor, I reluctantly forgo the risk.
I decide to e-mail my neighbor Paul, an early-waking walker who, like me, is often online. Never have I been more grateful for the invention of the Blackberry. Paul gets my message and goes into action.
Paul Anthony, generous neighbor and dependable early riser; elapsed time between distress call and response, 10 minutes.
Lulah, bless her, stays put while we prepare for her rescue. For a moment I think she looks amused, but she's not that cerebral. Certainly she's stopped mewing and is no longer pacing in distress.
And so I ascend to her rescue on this well-named labor day. No doubt you'd like to see a better picture of our happy protagonists, but one of them had seriously bad bedhead.
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