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  My Father was a typical Scottish character. Although he never said that he loved us often, I believe that he did. One of the sillier points in my life involved me climbing a huge tree to rescue my neighbour’s cat. My neighbour was a nice, if slightly eccentric, woman called Mrs Docherty. Her cat was called Max and she would dedicate much of her day to making sure Max had everything he could possibly want. To say the cat was fat would be an understatement. This weight didn’t seem to be a disadvantage to the mischievous kitty as he managed to get himself in places where nobody could ever reach him. The large tree at the back of our garden was one of his favourite places in East Kilbride.

One windy day I was out playing with my brothers when I heard the cat meowing. It took a long time before I realised where he was. Glancing upwards, I spotted him at the very top of my tree, high up in the air. Looking very distressed, the cats back was arched and he was crying like a baby. Not wanting to leave the poor thing stuck, I began to climb the tree. At this stage in my life I considered myself quite the nimble character. I had climbed this tree thousands of times, but never to the heights the cat reached. About halfway up I began to have doubts.  Looking towards the ground, my head began to spin. What kept me going were the poor cat’s cries and my own brother’s taunts, willing me on with their insults. Of course a boy from East Kilbride would never allow himself to be called a coward, so I kept climbing and climbing.

Eventually I reached the cat and he didn’t look pleased to see me. I reached out and grabbed him, letting him get his claws into my jumper so he had something to grip onto. Maybe it was the excitement or the adrenaline, but I didn’t even feel the sting as his claws reached into my flesh. Slowly I began to descend. Everything was fine until nearing the bottom; I slipped on a broken branch. The cat went tumbling from my hands and landed safely, while I flew six feet down and landed flat on my back. Not getting any sympathy from my father, he picked me up, dusted me down and said “well done”.






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